


Build It Bigger Than The Sun (Let It Grow)

by fandomfrolics



Series: Craigslist 'Verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexuality, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because words are just words and nothing good ever came easy.</p><p>Or, if you want a less vague summary:</p><p>Steve and Tony are finally together, living in the same city and everything's roses. But Steve’s got a shitty record when it comes to relationships and Tony has a habit of drinking away his problems. Add in a dash of Obadiah Stane and some well-meaning but overly meddlesome friends and suddenly roses smell a lot more like...well what OutKast said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Missing Connections and prior reading of that is highly recommended.
> 
> Title is from Death Cab For Cutie's 'You Are A Tourist', a song particularly suited to this fic and one of my favorites.

“I think that’s the last one.” Steve Rogers stood up, dropping the roll of tape onto the large box he had just sealed. He looked around the small room, hands on his hips. “Man, I never realized how much crap I had.”

Tony snorted. “It’s ‘cos you, sir, are a hoarder.” He jumped down from the desk he was perched on and stepped around the boxes, peering down to read the labels Steve had meticulously stuck on. “If you could, I think you’d keep every tissue you ever blew your nose into. A beautiful souvenir for each cold you valiantly defeated. We should get you a spot on that reality show, see if they can break your addiction to stuff.”

“Yeah?” Steve said. “Think they can do something about your addiction to coffee and bad music?”

Tony straightened and spun around to face Steve, eyes widening in horror. “You did _not_ just call AC/DC bad music.” He gestured vaguely to the box next to him, neatly labeled ‘records’. “Besides, at least my music is vaguely recent. All you listen to is crappy old jazz. On a record player no less! You know you can just _download_ music nowadays right? No need to lug around a giant crate of oversized CDs.”

“Records are so much more than oversized CDs. The quality on them far surpasses what-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony interjected, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen this show already. It’s the one where you lecture me on things I don’t care about and I distract you with my luscious body.” He picked his way over the boxes, closing the distance between them. “So how about we just skip to the fun part?” He tilted his head up at the taller man, eyes glinting.

Steve gazed down at him silently, then slowly ran his fingers up Tony’s arm, climbing up his shoulder to tangle in the thick brown hair. Tony’s eyes fluttered closed. His breath sped slightly in anticipation as Steve paused, just drinking in the sight of the man in front of him. Then he abruptly yanked.

“Ow!” Tony exclaimed, head jerking as Steve pulled his hand free. He twisted his neck to glare at Steve. Steve didn’t even bother to contain his mischievous grin. He held his hand up in front of his face, forcing Tony’s eyes to focus on the object caught in his fingers.

“Sorry,” he said breezily, shoulders rising in a casual shrug. “This piece of tape was stuck in your hair and I wanted it as a souvenir.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You are just the worst kind of-

Exactly what the worst kind of he was, he never got to find out as Tony was swiftly cut off. “Okay guys, as endearing as this is, I’m not exactly parked in a legal spot. Can we just get this stuff downstairs?”

Tony and Steve turned as one to face the voice. Bruce stood framed in the doorway, arms folded over his chest and one eyebrow raised over the line of his glasses.

“Oh right.” Steve grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Bruce.” Bruce just shook his head, picking up the box nearest the door before turning around and heading back down. “Come on Tony, time to put your luscious body to work. We need to get this stuff into the truck.” He bent down to lift one of the smaller boxes.

“Excuse me?” Tony squeaked. He waved his hands, palms out in front of him. “Uh uh. I don’t do manual labor.”

Steve stared at him. “What are you talking about? Everything you do in your workshop is about as manual as you can get!”

“Oooookay, I don’t do manual labor when it doesn’t result in really cool gadgets at the end.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shoved the box into Tony’s chest, who reflexively closed his arms around it with an ‘oof’.

“Ugh, fine!” He shuffled towards the door, stepping over a carton on the way. “But I better be getting really good sex tonight!” he called over his shoulder as he exited.

Steve grinned at the retreating back, already knowing that Tony would try and make a move long before nightfall.

Despite the distance, or maybe because of it, they’d spent plenty of time in the past two months, well, mostly having sex. Like teenagers at a sleepaway camp, they took advantage of every chance they got. Tony had been making the trip out to Boston at least once a week, even if it was only for a few hours, and the one time he couldn’t make it at all, Steve had hopped on the fifteen dollar Chinatown bus (he refused to let Tony send his jet to pick him up. Tony half-joked that it was because Steve didn’t want to be his kept man but Steve just really hated the idea of being indebted to _anyone_ ).

It was great and all but now that they were going to be living in the same city, Steve was looking forward to just being together, maybe getting back to some of the long, intimate conversations that had gotten them here in the first place. There was so much more to uncover about the mystery that was Tony Stark, so many loose threads he wanted to pull at to unravel the mask Tony still wore too much of the time.

Still, the time between visits had been hard and all too often he had found himself counting the minutes before he would hear Tony’s familiar lilting tone, sarcasm and ebullience flowing interchangeably from his lips. He would be mildly embarrassed about his dependency if he didn’t know Tony was feeling the same way. Steve had quickly learned to turn his phone off completely during class time, especially necessary after one of Tony's more graphic texts had Steve turning bright red and choking enough that the girl behind him had forced her bottle of water on him.

So with the weekdays dragging on forever and the weekends flying by in a blur of travel and okay fine, really good sex, Steve was a little taken aback to find that it was suddenly the end of May and his college life was over. Or at least, would be, after his graduation ceremony tomorrow. His time here had been a complete rollercoaster, not at all the collegiate experience too many bad movies had made it out to be. He’d felt like he’d lived an entire lifetime in the last four years.

“What are you doing?”

Steve jumped, looking up to find Bruce back in the doorway.

He flushed slightly, bringing his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I was just...reflecting I guess.” He glanced around. “I can’t believe this part of my life is over already.”

“Yeah, kind of flew by, didn’t it?” Bruce stepped into the room, dragging his fingers along the now-bare wall. “Though I swear at times it felt like it was never going to end.”

Steve sighed. “Definitely had it’s ups and downs.” He clapped his hands together. “But now it’s time for bigger and brighter things!”

“Like moving these piles of boxes?” Bruce asked wryly. He reached for another box as Steve laughed. “I still don’t understand why they can’t give you more time to move out. It’s sort of ridiculous that you have to be out _the_ _day after_ you graduate.”

Steve hefted the box he’d picked up higher in his hands. “Isn’t MIT the same?”

“Nah, they give us two whole days,” Bruce replied as he led the way out of the room and towards the elevator. “To make up for holding on to our souls for an extra week I suppose.”

Steve grinned at the back of Bruce’s head. It still pleased him to see Bruce so comfortable around him. He’d grown overly fond of the other man’s dry wit. Bruce had somehow fit right in to their strange little group, his calm manner a good counterpoint to Bucky’s exuberance.

“I’m really glad we decided to live together,” Steve said as the elevator doors closed.

Bruce smiled shyly at Steve over the top of his carton. “Yeah, me too. Though I’m equally glad I’m only joining you a week later. Hopefully by then you and Tony will be out of your honeymoon phase and won’t be pawing at each other at all hours of the day.”

“Don’t worry, Tony isn’t planning on coming near our apartment. He says the East Village gives him hives.” The elevator dinged open and they headed out towards the truck. 

“Speaking of, where is Tony anyway? He disappeared after he dropped off that one box.”

Steve sighed. “Probably ran away so he wouldn’t have to carry anything else.”

They were just bringing the last of the boxes out to the truck when Tony reappeared, a clear coffee cup clutched in either hand. “Oh gosh, are you guys done already? My bad, I didn’t think the Starbucks line would be so long.”

Steve put the boxes he was holding down on the street and turned to Tony, taking the cup the other man held out to him. “Decaf right?”

“Yup. And a small iced chai latte for our overheated scientist.” He shook the drink at Bruce, the ice rattling tantalizingly as flecks of condensation flew off the surface.

“Thanks, Tony,” he said accepting the cup gratefully. He caught the straw between his teeth and took a long sip, leaning against the truck with a sigh as he pulled the drink away from his lips.

Tony and Bruce had only met a couple of times in person but they’d clicked from the first moment, spending their entire time talking about things that nobody else understood. Tony had immediately saved Bruce’s email address and they’d been in frequent contact since. “I blame you,” Tony had said. “You’re the reason I got into this whole emailing crap.” Steve would almost be a little bit jealous if he didn’t know Bruce was as straight as Tony’s perfectly orthodontured teeth.

The geniuses in question were now discussing the best way to slot the boxes into the truck so as to still have enough room for Bruce’s stuff, which they were going to pick up next. Steve ignored them and started piling the boxes in, leaving his drink to rest on the curb. He was almost done when the other two finally looked up, surprise creasing their features as they spotted the neatly arranged cartons.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” Tony asked.

“I play a lot of Tetris,” Steve responded dryly. He chugged down the rest of his iced coffee and tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “Come on, it’s getting late and we still have Bruce’s room to do.” He flashed a toothy grin at the other two. “ _And_ he has no elevator.”

Tony groaned. “I’m not going to be able to run away this time, am I?”

“If you do, you can bet you’re not going to be seeing any of that really good sex for awhile.”

“I do _not_ need to hear that,” Bruce muttered. “Okay, I’m going. See you guys there?”

Steve nodded. “We should get that ‘bout ten minutes after you.”

“That’s fine, I can do a last sweep, see if I missed anything,” Bruce replied. He dropped his cup in after Steve’s and climbed up into the front of the U-Haul.

“Oh quit sulking. I don’t know what else you expected when you volunteered to help on moving day,” Steve said as he started off down the sidewalk.

Tony shrugged, falling into step as they walked towards the nearest above-ground Green Line stop. Steve shot him a curious glance as he remained quiet, avoiding Steve’s eye. He bent sideways, nudging Tony with his shoulder.

Tony looked up, lips twisting. “Okay, fine, make me say it,” he grumbled.  “I volunteered because...” He ducked his head and if Steve didn’t know better, he would say his boyfriend was actually blushing. “Well, because I was just so excited when you said you were coming to New York, I wasn’t really thinking about anything else.” Tony sighed, tugging at his ear as he looked back up at Steve. “And now I have to _carry things_. That’s what I get for turning my brain off.”

Steve felt like the grin on his face was going to split his cheeks. He itched to snatch up the hand that was pulling relentlessly at Tony’s ear, to whirl him around and kiss him right then and there so the world could see just how lucky he was. 

Instead he just ruffled Tony’s hair, ignoring the other man’s complaints about messing it up. It was times like this that Steve really hated that Tony was the face of a public corporation.

The train arrived just as they reached the stop and they clambered on, Steve tapping his CharlieCard twice for the both of them. Strange to think that in a couple of days he wouldn’t need it anymore.

A few slow stops and a transfer later and they were at the MIT station. As the train disappeared back into the tunnel with a screech, they both turned wordlessly to look across the tracks to the other platform, eyes landing on the spot where they’d first collided. Steve stuck his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to touch Tony in some way.

“You know,” Tony said, still staring ahead, “we should really send the MBTA a Thank You card or something.” He cocked his head, turning to face Steve. “If they weren’t so good at their jobs I probably would have stuck to Happy’s wonderful driving and then where would we be?”

Steve laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t be about to help carry heavy boxes and a couch down five flights of stairs, for one.”

“Damn it, you’re right.” Tony wrinkled his nose, spinning on his heel to head for the escalator. “Fuck the MBTA.” He clomped up the moving steps, too impatient to wait for its slow ascent. “Bruce doesn’t need that couch in one piece does he? We could just throw it out the window, save us some time.”

Shaking his head, Steve followed behind. He glanced over his shoulder for one last look at the platform and smiled, thinking maybe he would send that Thank You card after all.

***

Steve tugged at his robe, half-wishing that he’d taken Tony’s leering suggestion and worn nothing underneath the thick material. It was about twenty degrees hotter than it had any right to be in May and the ceremony was dragging on forever. The phone in his lap vibrated violently.

_Pay attention Rogers_

Steve turned his head to the side slightly, eyes rolling up to try and catch a glance of the man he knew was hidden at the back of the large crowd, anonymous in a baseball cap and fake Ray-Bans from Chinatown. He dropped his gaze back down to his phone and tapped at it ferociously.

_I may have less trouble staying focused if you’d let me get some sleep._

His phone jerked again before he even dropped it back into his lap.

_You certainly weren’t complaining last night_

Steve rolled his eyes. He could just see the smirk Tony would have on his face right now. He was about to type out a reply when everyone around him started clapping. He let his phone fall back into the folds of his robes and joined the applause, glad the Dean’s droning speech was over.

“And now a speech from your valedictorian. He matriculates today with dual degrees in Chemistry and Classics & Religion, as well as a minor in Theatre. In the fall, he will begin his studies at Harvard Medical School. I present, Mr. Donald Blake!”

Steve shifted in his seat, sure this was going to be another long, dry speech by an overenthusiastic intellectual trying to impress his peers. He picked up his phone, trying to think of a snappy comeback for Tony when a booming voice caught his attention.

“No way,” he whispered, slowly lifting his head.

His mouth fell open when his eyes locked on to the gargantuan man at the podium, long blonde hair flapping slightly in the wind. He quickly turned back to his phone, ignoring Tony’s incoming text and opening a new message for Bucky.

_I thought this guy’s name was Thor?_

He twisted around to look at Bucky once he’d sent it, watching as his friend handed the camera to Peggy so he could fish his phone out of his pocket. The two of them, along with Bruce, had arrived early enough to find seats in the front few rows. Steve didn’t want to think about it too much. He’d already teared up once earlier today when Bucky, big cornball that he was, had earnestly told him (with probably the softest expression Steve had ever seen him wear) that his mom would be proud. And then again when he’d gone up to receive his degree and found the cheers for his name to be louder than any he’d heard so far, Peggy’s ear-splitting whistles causing laughter to ripple through the crowd.

_Haha nah. It’s just something he does when he’s bored. Or drunk. He says it’s his way of studying and I guess it works._

Oh. He’d thought the other man was mildly delusional, or maybe just stoned off his mind. Bucky sent another text.

_Don’t feel too bad. Darcy still doesn’t know his real name. But then again, she forgot my name the morning after we hooked up so she might not be the best example to follow._

Steve shook his head. Bucky was his best friend and all but Steve still had trouble understanding his relationship with women. After a quick glance at Tony’s neglected text, he turned his attention back to Donald ‘Thor’ Blake’s words.

Once the surprisingly entertaining speech was over, Steve steadily made his way to the exit, whispering hushed ‘excuse me’s to the people he slid past and clambering awkwardly over the crowds of feet.

Outside he found crowds of families already taking photos, too impatient to wait for the ceremony’s end. Steve started to weave through them but paused for a second, attention drawn to a petite blonde woman leaping forward to hug her tall son tightly. The boy laughed, robes flapping as he wrapped his long arms around her and rested his chin on her head. Steve froze, transfixed, until he felt somebody bump into him from behind. He blinked, waving off the other man’s apology as he tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat.

Most days it was, well it wasn’t _easy_ but it was doable, dealing with the fact that he was an orphan, that he had no other person on this Earth that he had a direct connection to. But on occasions like this, the hole in his heart that had appeared when his mother had passed fought to make itself remembered, the memories aching for attention.

He turned abruptly away from the pair only to spot Tony leaning against a wall a small distance away, denim-clad legs crossed at the ankle and cap pulled low over his eyes. Chest loosening a little, he thought of Tony’s words from yesterday, his excitement to just be with him, of Bucky, Peggy and Bruce, waking up at five am so they could have an unobstructed view of Steve receiving his diploma. Taking a deep breath, he made for Tony. They may not be his blood but this was his family now and Steve was...well he was okay with that.

Tony pushed off the wall as Steve approached, a big grin on his face. “Look at my little man, all grown up,” he said, pinching Steve’s cheek. Despite the annoying gesture, Steve felt his lips curve up in an answering smile at the genuine pride burning in Tony’s eyes. “Here, let me see.” He tugged the diploma out of Steve’s hands, opening the fancy folder. “Hereby awarded to...Steven Grant Rogers?” He looked up at Steve. “Your middle name isn’t America? You’ve been lying to me all this time! Is your birthday actually on the fourth of July? And do you even _like_ apple pie?”

“Tony,” Steve intoned, looking at his watch pointedly.

“Right, right, you’ve got to go back in. And I’ve got to go.” Tony turned his head, sharp eyes scanning the area around them to see if anyone was paying them any attention. “Okay, just come with me a sec.” He didn’t wait for an answer.

Steve yelped as he was pulled along by the arm, turning his feet so he could comfortably trail behind. They turned a corner and approached a familiar jet-black car parked on the street.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Steve asked as Tony opened the door.

“Only for a minute, Punctual Percy.” He let go of Steve’s arm and climbed in, beckoning impatiently for Steve to follow.

Steve slid in and shut the door, careful not to crease his robes. He placed the diploma delicately on the seat beside him.

Tony pulled off his glasses and cap, fingers fluffing at his hair. “Okay first things first.” He hooked his hands in Steve’s robes and jerked him forward, the graduate’s square cap falling off his head as Tony captured his lips in a kiss. Steve automatically brought his hands up to cup Tony’s face as he kissed back, the motions as familiar and relaxed as slipping on his favorite t-shirt. One of Tony’s hands moved towards the robes’ zipper as his tongue darted over Steve’s lips, and this, this was much less relaxed. Steve regretfully pulled back, his fingers wrapping around Tony’s wrists. He gently returned the other man’s hands to his own lap.

“That is a bad idea,” Steve said. “I don’t think Peggy will be too happy if I show up for photos looking like I just played the NC-17 version of 7 Minutes in Heaven.”

Tony huffed as Steve bent down to pick up his cap. “Fine. But if I can’t congratulate you with sex you’re just going to have to make do with my other gift. Though I’m warning you, nothing will live up to the offer of this.” He waved his hand in front of him, indicating his body in an all-encompassing gesture.

“Tony, you didn’t have to-“

“Pish posh. It’s customary, isn’t it? For grads to receive lots and lots of swag?”

“I- Yes, I suppose so. But that doesn’t mean-” He blinked. “Did you just say pish posh?”

“I may have,” Tony replied, turning away from Steve to rap on the partition. “Happy, blackout please.”

Before Steve had the chance to question what that meant, the windows shaded over, casting the entire interior of the car into total darkness. He felt something large drop into his lap and poked cautiously at it, hearing the crinkle of paper. There was another sharp rap on the glass and suddenly he could see again.

Steve blinked down at his lap, slightly dizzy as his brain tried to keep up with Tony’s zeal. “It’s wrapped,” he said, eyeing the bulky package. He looked up at Tony. “Why all the dramatic darkness if it’s wrapped?”

Tony shrugged. “Been wanting to try that out. Cool, isn’t it? Now quit stalling, open, open.” He knocked his knees against Steve, nearly toppling the present onto the floor. Steve caught it before it slipped off and started to slowly tear at the paper, slightly apprehensive. He’d told Tony at the beginning that he didn’t want the billionaire spending lots of money on him but Tony’s definition of lots of money was vastly different from Steve’s.

The paper fell away and Steve’s breath caught. In his lap lay a beautiful box easel with a leather handle, his initials gilded delicately into the side. He opened it, eyes widening at the array of oils neatly arranged inside, nestled amongst the other materials.

“It’s portable,” Tony burst out. “So you don’t have any excuses not to do what you really love, even when you’re busy with your fancy-pants corporate job.”

“I’d hardly call a junior designer at a gigantic advertising firm fancy-pants,” Steve replied, surprised at the hoarseness in his voice. He slowly closed the box, hands running reverently over the wood. His gaze flicked up to Tony, who was jiggling his legs nervously as he watched Steve’s reaction.

“You sure you like it? ‘Cos I have about ten backup gifts, one of which involves a private suite in a luxury hotel in Hawaii. You don’t have to pretend for my ego.” Tony stretched his hands out towards the present.

“Nope, you’re not getting it back.” Steve tightened his arms around the box protectively. “This is perfect, Tony.” Keeping one hand hooked around the case so it wouldn’t fall, he wrapped the other around Tony’s neck and kissed him. “Thank you,” he said quietly as he pulled back.

Tony smiled, all trace of anxiety gone from his face. “You’re welcome. Now get out of my car, I have a plane to catch. Always making me late, you are.”

Steve grinned. He carefully placed the box on the floor of the car and leaned forward for one last kiss before he opened the door.

“Oh, wait!” Tony called as Steve started to climb out. Steve paused, bent halfway out of the car. “I didn’t get any photos of you all dolled up.”

Steve exited the vehicle completely and turned so he could stick his head back in. “Cheeeeeeeese.”

“No, you idiot. With me too. Hey Happy, come take a photo of us, would you?”

Steve stepped back so Tony could join him on the sidewalk as Happy came around, DSLR in hand. Tony straightened Steve’s cap and slid an arm over his shoulder, and they both grinned broadly at Happy.

After a couple of snaps, Tony reached into his pocket. “Hang on, I want one with my phone.” He set it to the front-facing camera and held it up, pointing at their faces from a slight angle. “Ready, Cap?” Steve’s heart flipped a bit, as it always did upon hearing the familiar nickname. Tony tilted his back to look past Steve’s head to the faraway crowds, then quickly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek as he clicked the photo.

They both bent over the small screen so they could see the picture, Tony taking his arm from Steve’s shoulder to hold the phone between them. The camera had gone off at the perfect moment, with Tony’s lips pressed right against Steve’s skin and Steve’s eyes comically wide in response, the tassel from his cap brushing down into Tony’s hair. Tony’s eyes were closed, the slight lines that were starting to form around his eyes completely relaxed.

“That is my new favorite picture,” Tony proclaimed. “I think I’m going to have it blown up and plastered all over my room.” Steve looked up at Tony, who was bouncing slightly on his heels. He looked-

Well, he looked about as happy as Steve felt right now. Which was brain-bursting, heart-exploding, skyrocketing kind of happy.

Tony locked his phone, swearing when he caught sight of the time on the home screen. “Okay, this is the worst time possible for me to grow a conscience but Pepper said if I wasn’t on time she would castrate me and that wouldn’t be fun for either of us. Apparently it’s not acceptable in the corporate world to be fashionably late to your own birthday party.”

Steve sighed, the giddiness leaking out of him slightly. “I wish I could be there.” Tony opened his mouth but Steve cut him off. “Yeah, I know. it’s kind of hard to explain a random art student at the party of one of the most powerful people in the world.” He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I wouldn’t really know how to act anyway.”

“No, the real reason you can’t come is that you would charm them all over with your never-failing politeness and boyish good looks and then they’ll all remember what a schlub I really am,” Tony said lightly. “Besides, not a student anymore, are you?” He poked at the diploma clutched in Steve’s hand.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Feels weird.” Steve dropped his arm back to his side. “Well, I’m glad I get to spend one more night with Bucky before I leave anyway. I think he’s been feeling neglected since we got together.”

“I still think it’s weird that two grown men are having a sleepover that’s not the kind that we have.” Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “Unless that is the kind of sleepover you’re having?”

“Oh dang it, you caught me.” Steve snapped his fingers. “Ah well, now that you know, you might as well join in.”

“Sorry, not really into guys who hit me,” Tony deadpanned. Happy cleared his throat from the other side of the car. “Oh, right, time to go. You should be getting back in there anyway, don’t wanna miss the cap throwing bit, that’s the only part worth waiting for, really.” He grabbed Steve in a quick hug and stepped back towards the car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell the others I said bye. Except Bucky. Tell Bucky I said he’s a pain in the ass.” He opened the door and started to duck inside, but paused abruptly, hand smacking his forehead. “Oh I forgot the most important thing.” He rose back up slightly, peeking his head over the doorframe. “Congratulations, Steve. I’m really proud of you.” And then with a last wave and a slam of the door, he was gone.

Steve clutched the diploma to his chest and stared after the car until it disappeared. He turned and drifted back towards the graduation ceremony, his head and his heart working hard to sort through the muddle of emotions Tony left him with. The phone in his pocket vibrated against his leg and he pulled it out, brow creasing when he saw it was a message from Tony. He clicked it open and found the photo they’d just taken and a burst of affection grew in his chest, beating down everything else. For now, it was enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness crashed into Tony like a train. He stretched a hand downward, trying to find the top of his blanket so he could pull it up over his head and pretend the world didn’t exist. Instead his fingers brushed against material that was way too smooth and not nearly comfy feeling enough to be his 1000 thread-count duvet cover. He cracked open an eye and found himself facing an abundance of beige.

Apparently he’d passed out on the floor of the living room again (he should really just start planting pillows and blankets in here before parties). Raising his head slightly, Tony found his suit jacket half-draped across his torso and his feet bare (thank god. He didn’t want to wake up with a penis sharpied onto his face again).

He squeezed his eye shut again and rolled over onto his back, reaching a hand under his shoulder blade to dig out a...cigar pipe?...that was poking into his back. The room had a vague odor of stale alcohol but was thankfully free of the smell of vomit. Tony swallowed hard, his mouth feeling a bit like he’d licked a chimney. God he wanted water. Maybe there was someone else in the room, a kind soul who would take those steps to rehydrate him.

“Hngh,” he said, opening his eyes.

A face popped into his vision. _Not_ a face he was hoping to see. “I don’t know about you! But I’m feeling twenty twoooooooo!!!” Clint bellowed. Tony had no idea what Clint was trying to sing, but whatever it was, he just knew Clint was completely off-key.

Tony groaned, crumpling up his suit jacket and pressing it over his face.

“You don’t know about me!” Clint continued tonelessly, tugging the jacket out of Tony’s grasp. “But I bet you want tooooooooo!” 

“No Barton, I really don’t.” Tony peered blearily up at Clint. “What the hell is that garbage coming out of your mouth?”

“Ah, so you are alive!” Clint grinned down at Tony. “That, my friend is Taylor Swift! I’ve been _waiting_ for that song to be relevant to someone I know.” 

“I really worry about your taste in music.” Clint stepped back as Tony slowly sat up. He managed to make it to a seated position without regurgitating everything he drank last night (a fact he was probably way too proud of). 

Tony blinked, looking up at Clint as if seeing him for the first time. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Nat let me in. Nice to see you too by the way.” Clint turned around, heading towards the kitchen.

“Nat?” Tony mouthed, eyes wide. He lumbered to his feet, pulling off the tie that he had apparently repurposed as a headband at some point during the night.

Clint came back in with a full glass of water. Tony took it, sipping at it carefully and glaring suspiciously at Clint.

“Since when is Natasha Nat?” He ran his sleeve over his mouth (his aim was never great the morning after a big night). “You are talking about Natasha right? My sometimes-bodyguard, sometimes-Pepper’s-fake-assistant, all times freakishly terrifying?”

Clint nodded. “We bonded that night we went out and you spent three hours trying to teach the bartender about density and the optimal ratio of the liqueurs in a Long Island Ice Tea.” He sauntered over to the couch and plopped down. “Apparently all you have to do to win her respect is beat her in a knife-throwing competition.”

Tony...didn’t even know where to start with that. He gulped down his water and scrubbed at his face. Dropping his hand, he looked back up at Clint. “Where did you even _have_ a knife-throwing competition? We were in the middle of SoHo!”

“Oh we didn’t have one at the bar. That was just the preliminary darts game. She wanted to see if I was even worthy of a challenge in the first place.” Clint kicked his legs up onto the table. “No, the knife-throwing came later, after we put you to bed. We set up a target on your rooftop.” He grinned at Tony. “Cutie Coulson was the judge. ”

Tony’s mouth opened and closed. He shook his head and spun on his heel, back towards the kitchen. Where the hell was Pepper with her Advil and her doughnuts and her _sanity_ when he needed it?

Clint trailed after him. Tony plunked himself onto a kitchen stool as Clint headed for the fridge. “Why was Coulson even there?”

Clint shrugged. “Apparently he has to be called in if you’re unconscious enough that it may be classified as foul play.” He pulled open the fridge, his head disappearing behind the large metal door. 

Tony rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping in. “You know,” Clint said as he resurfaced with the remnants of last night’s cake balanced in one hand, “you don’t _have_ to get blackout drunk every week.”

Tony grimaced as the sweet smell wafted towards him. His stomach roiled.

“Last night would have been absolutely intolerable without some booze. Besides, it’s preferred that I’m slightly lubricated at these things. Apparently I schmooze better.” He wrinkled his nose as Clint licked icing from his finger. “We have forks, you know.”

“Too slow.” He dug his hand into the cake, pulling off a large piece. “So I’m confused. Wasn’t it _your_ birthday yesterday?”

“No, actually my birthday’s on Wednesday.”

“Whatever. The party was to celebrate your birth right?”

Tony dropped his hands back to the countertop, barely stopping his head from following suit. “I suppose. Although, nobody tried to lift me up and present me to a kingdom of animals so I could be wrong.” Clint looked at him blankly. “Haven’t you ever seen Lion King?” He shook his head, chewing hard on the too-large bite in his mouth. “What the _hell_ kind of childhood did you have? No Disney movies, you move like an Olympic gymnast, and apparently you can throw knives better than a highly-trained bodyguard. Also, you devour your food like it’s going to run away if you give it half a chance.”

Clint swallowed, grinning. “Ask Cutie Coulson. He’s got my whole life story.”

“Is that a thing now? Is he forever going to be Cutie Coulson? I need to know, so I can make all the relevant changes in my files.”

“Nope, only I can call him that. He’s still Agent to you.” Clint shoved the lid back on the container of cake, licking his fingers again. “So you were about to explain.” Tony squinted up at him questioningly from his slump. “Why is it you have to drink so much at your own birthday that you barely flinch at having Taylor Swift yelled in your face the next morning?”

“I already told you,” Tony snapped, irritation sparking. There was an entire drum circle in his head now and seeing Clint eat like a wild vulture had done nothing to calm his nausea. Defending his drinking habits was the last thing he felt like doing. He pushed back from the island and stepped down from the stool. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pass out for the next four weeks.”

“Isn’t your boy toy coming today?” Clint asked, his elbows propping him up as he leant forward onto the sleek marble countertop.

Tony blinked. Shit, he’d completely forgotten (no, he just hadn’t remembered yet. There’s no way he would have completely blanked on this). He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Not for a few hours. Plenty of time to make myself a human again.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah good luck with that.”

Tony ignored him, turning and walking out of the kitchen. He didn’t see Clint’s forehead crease in worry as he watched him go.

***

Later that evening, Tony stood on the sidewalk and peered up at the building in front of him, fingers wrapped tight around a wine bottle in a brown paper bag. The power nap hadn’t really helped and even the hour-long shower couldn’t wash away the clouds that lingered over him after Clint’s brief visit. He dropped his gaze to the buttons in front of him and pressed hard on the one for 4B.

Nothing happened.

After a moment, he pushed it again, squinting at the speaker next to the row of apartment numbers. Five pushes and one long press that would have annoyed even the deaf later, he pulled out his phone.

“Hey Steve? I’m outside.”

“Oh hey Tony! Sorry, the buzzer doesn’t work. I’ll come let you in.”

Tony slid the phone back into his pocket, leaning against the crumbling brick to wait. The door swung open after a minute and a familiar blond head poked out. Tony’s heart lifted and his bad mood suddenly fell away.

Steve smiled at him as Tony stepped over the threshold. “I thought you couldn’t stand the East Village?”

“No, I can’t stand the overabundance of NYU students and their addiction to scarves,” Tony replied as he followed Steve up the narrow staircase, threadbare carpet thin under his feet. “Seriously, we’re in the middle of a fucking heat wave and they’ve got so many layers protecting their neck even a vampire couldn’t get through.” Steve laughed. “Anyway,” he said, turning his attention from the peeling paint on the walls to the back of Steve’s head, “I thought we could celebrate. And maybe make some use of Bruce’s couch before he comes back to claim it.”

Steve paused on the landing, turning slightly to face Tony, who stopped his ascent. “Yeah, about that.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “There was this weird mix-up with Bucky’s housing in the shift from spring to summer semester, something about financial aid and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be staying because he didn’t think it was worth the credits and then he...” He trailed off as Tony just stared blankly at him. “Anyway, he’s going to be staying with me for the next few days.” Steve shrugged. “It works out for both of us. It was nice to have company on the drive down and he was a big help with all the boxes.”

Tony could feel the clouds start to creep back in but he forced his lips up. “Cool. At least it got me out of couch duty.” Tony noted the way Steve’s shoulders relaxed slightly in relief and felt like a total asshole. The guy was Steve’s best friend, he shouldn’t begrudge them time together before Steve moved to a completely new city. 

“So the drive was alright?” Tony asked as they continued up.

“Yeah, not much traffic on a Sunday. It was pretty smooth sailing.”

“That’s good.”

He gave up on trying to continue any conversation halfway up the second flight. Steve must have heard his panting. “You should start going for runs with me,” he said, turning his head slightly to throw the words over his shoulder.

Tony huffed extra loudly in reply (and also because he wasn’t really able to do much else).

When they finally reached the fourth floor, Tony’s legs were on fire and he was gasping like an asthmatic without an inhaler. Steve just shook his head. He slid his key into one lock, then the doorknob, then a final lock above the first, unlocking each with a loud click.

“What, no secret password?” Tony panted out (snark was totally worth that breath).

“Bruce and I talked about it but we decided to go with a retina scanner instead,” Steve deadpanned. “It’s in the mail now.” He turned the doorknob and stepped forward, the door swinging open with a loud creak. “Welcome, Anthony Stark, to my humble abode.”

Tony stepped in after Steve, not really sure what to expect. Buildings like these were a dime a dozen around the city, crammed to the gills with more tenants than any fire code would recommend, filled with students, small-town dreamers and entire families of immigrants crowded into single rooms. He’d never been near one.

He put the wine bottle down on a nearby box and took two steps into the middle of the room, sticking his hands in his pockets as he took it all in.

The apartment was a one bedroom, he knew, with the plan being that Steve would sleep in the living room. Bruce was going to be earning slightly more and could afford a larger share of the rent so it only seemed fair that he would get the room with four walls and a door.

The living room was about the size of Tony’s bathroom (but then again, so was his dorm room in college so that wasn’t really saying much) and the boxes scattered everywhere didn’t help make it look any bigger. Bruce’s ratty orange couch was pushed into one corner. Tony spotted a body stretched out facedown on top, a hand trailing down to the floor. He assumed it was Bucky. He thought he could hear faint snores. There was a closed door ahead and one to the right (the bathroom and bedroom, he guessed). On his left was the kitchenette, which at this point consisted of a stovetop and an ancient, rusting fridge. One of the cabinet doors hung slightly crooked and the faucet was dripping steadily into the sink, adding it’s own beat to the busy traffic and unidentifiable clunking that otherwise made up the soundtrack to the apartment. 

“It needs a little work,” Steve said (with what Tony thought was a hint of defensiveness), “but I like it.”

Tony spun to face Steve, realizing he’d probably been silent for too long. “No, it’s great! Very, uh, cosy.”

He heard a snort and looked over at the couch in annoyance. “That’s politic,” Bucky said, pushing himself up into a seated position. He rubbed at his eyes briefly with his good hand and dropped it. “‘Sup, Stark?”

Tony saluted him smartly. “Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and Steve sighed. He clapped his hands together. “I’m hungry! And I don’t have any food. Who wants to go eat?”

Bucky tore his glower away from Tony, face relaxing as his eyes landed on Steve. “You guys go ahead. I’m going to go back to my nap. Helping somebody move into a walk-up takes a lot out of you.” He said that last bit pointedly, once again glaring at Tony.

Before Tony could reply, Steve clapped his hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the door. “Come on, Tony. Say what you want about the East Village but the food here is incredible.”

Tony stuck his hands back in his pocket and let himself be led out.

\--

They ended up at a hole-in-the-wall falafel place on St. Marks. Steve placed the order while Tony snagged one of the three plastic tables in the small basement restaurant.

Tony reached for his wallet as Steve handed him his lamb shawarma but Steve waved him away. “My treat.”

Tony’s eyes flicked up to the blackboard menu on the wall beside them before he agreed, letting his hand fall away from his pocket. Steve politely pretended not to notice as he bit into his three dollar (three dollars!) falafel. Tony followed his lead and bit into his own food. And froze. His taste buds were in overdrive.

The lamb was tender and succulent, perfectly marinated in a light sauce that complimented the tahini and pita brilliantly. He started to chew again as he stared down at the food in his hand, his eyes wide.

“Try some of their hot sauce.” Tony looked up to see Steve pushing a unlabeled plastic bottle towards him, a half-hidden smile on his face. “Careful, it’s pretty spicy,” Steve added as Tony picked the bottle up.

He swallowed his mouthful and squeezed out a few drops onto the top of his sandwich (it was sort of telling that his brain couldn’t even supply him with any innuendo right now). The next bite nearly had him swooning (he will deny until his dying day that a moan escaped his mouth).

Tony devoured the rest of his sandwich, looking up when he was done to find Steve offering him another one. “This one’s chicken. I think the lamb’s better but figured I’d let you decide for yourself.” He held up the sandwich in his other hand. “Unless you want to try the falafel? No meat, but it’s pretty delicious.”

Feeling adventurous, Tony took the falafel. “Man, if I’d known shawarma was this good, I would have tried it years ago.”

Steve laughed. “Don’t expect it to taste like this every time. I mean, shawarma’s good and all but this place is in a league all it’s own.”

The falafel tasted amazingly fresh, especially surprising for something that looked like it was deep fried. Still, it wasn’t as mind-blowing as the shawarma and Tony found he was actually able to hold a conversation while eating it.

“So how long did it take you guys to move all the stuff in?”

Steve swallowed down his mouthful of chicken before replying. Ever polite, he was. “Just a half hour.”

Tony eyebrows shot up. “Really? How did Barnes even...I mean, can he, with his arm all...?” Tony trailed off awkwardly.

“The prosthetic he has right now isn’t great but he could manage some of the smaller boxes. He mostly just guarded the truck.” Steve picked up the hot sauce bottle and squirted an obscene amount over the remains of his sandwich. “Anyway, it wasn’t just us. Found a couple of guys off the street and told them we’d buy them a pizza if they helped. That was Bruce’s idea actually.”

“Oh.” Tony wished Steve would have just accepted his offer to hire them movers. It would have saved Steve a lot of time and effort and Tony a lot of guilt.

“Anyway, I was thinking. Since you’re birthday’s Wednesday and I doubt you actually got to celebrate at your swanky party last night...” Tony dropped his eyes back to the falafel, avoiding Steve’s eye. “We should have a thing. Just a small dinner, a couple of friends, maybe watch a movie or something. Bucky and I are heading back to Boston Thursday for the MIT commencement so I figured this was also kind of like a last chance for all our friends to hang out.”

Tony brought his head back up, gazing at Steve silently for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent his birthday with people who cared about him (that weren’t on his payroll, that is). Not to mention the last time he’d hung out with people his own age. “Yeah, that’d be...” He swallowed. “That’d be nice.”

“Great,” Steve replied casually, crumpling his wrapper as he finished his sandwich. “What kind of cake do you want?”

“Uh...” Tony coughed slightly (how had he never been asked this before?). “I like tiramisu.”

Steve groaned. “Of course you’d want a cake with coffee in it. I should have known.” Tony didn’t think Steve realized how unusual this all was for Tony, how thrown this brief conversation had him. And how much overwhelming gratitude he felt. “Well, it’s your birthday.” Steve heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I guess tiramisu it is.” He smiled softly at Tony, eyes bright.

But then again, maybe he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you were wondering, the place Steve and Tony go to is called Mamoun’s Falafel and they have multiple locations in NYC now and they all have equally amazing (and cheap!) food. Their lamb shawarma is the best thing I’ve ever eaten and I don’t even like falafel but I eat theirs every time I’m in the city. And no, I don’t work for them. (Also I’ll confess here that I completely forgot about the Avengers shawarma thing when I was writing this. I just really wanted to include Mamoun’s and then I remembered and I was like oh duh). I’M SORRY GUYS I JUST REALLY LIKE MAMOUN’S FALAFEL OKAY.
> 
> Also the song Clint sings to Tony is '22' by Taylor Swift, which has been stuck in my head since I started this fic. I've disliked her music all these years and now I can't stop listening to that song. Taylor Swift is the devil.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve leaned back against the glass counter that marked Tony’s extensive bar, careful to keep his elbows out of the open pizza boxes and trays of baked goods. He might have gone a little overboard on food for their tiny little gathering but Tony seemed to be enjoying himself well enough and that was what mattered. He watched, highly amused (and probably not as worried as he should be), from across the room as Clint tried to convince Tony to let him knock him out.

"Come on, Tony, just a quick blow to the head. You won't even be out that long!"

“Dammit, Clint, if you want Coulson here that badly why don’t you just _call_ him?”

“Because,” Clint whined. “Then he’ll think I like him!”

Steve snickered at the look of chagrin on Tony’s face. “But you _do_ like him!”

Steve’s attention was torn from Clint’s reply when a body sidled up to him. “I see Stark’s friends are just as idiotic as he is,” Bucky said, gesturing at the other two with his beer bottle.

Steve sighed, turning to face his friend. “Can’t you be nice, just for one day?”

“I guess I could try.” Bucky took a swig of his drink. “Maybe I’ll start by giving pizza boy what he wants.”

Steve shook his head. “I think hitting Tony once was plenty, thanks.”

“Pity.”

Steve forehead creased in a frown as he slumped back against the countertop. “Is it so much to ask that my best friend and my boyfriend get along?”

“When your boyfriend’s a huge dick, yes.”

“I think you meant _has_ a huge dick.” Apparently Tony had argued his way out of potential unconsciousness. At some point he’d moved over to their side of the room and now stood a few feet in front of them, lips twisted in a cocky smirk. Just the expression Bucky needed to see.

“It’s true, I’ve seen it!” Clint piped up from behind Tony. Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony, who spun around and swiftly chucked the remainder of his brownie at Clint.

“Gross!”

Steve peered curiously around Tony to find Clint balanced along the back of the couch, one leg bent and his head balanced on his fist like he was waiting for someone to paint him like one of their french girls. He’d apparently caught the brownie as it was now squished in his hand, small bits falling out as he slowly uncurled his fist.

“Quit it, Barton, you’re getting crumbs all over my carpet!”

Clint pushed himself upright and let his feet drop to the ground, leaning back against the couch. “You’re one to talk about the carpet, considering the state I found you in on Sunday morning!”

Tony stiffened. Steve’s eyebrows shot up. Tony had avoided talking about his birthday party and Steve hadn’t pushed it, assuming that Tony hadn’t enjoyed it and left it at that. He couldn’t see Tony’s face but he could see Clint quickly duck his head, silently chastened.

“What state were you in on Sunday morning?” Bucky asked interestedly.

Tony pivoted slightly, showing Steve enough of his expression in profile to see that his face had completely closed off. “New York,” he snapped.

Bucky rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but a nudge from Steve had him raising his bottle to his lips instead. Steve had very quickly learned that Tony hated to be pushed into talking about anything.

“So when’s Pepper getting here?” Steve asked. 

“She should be here right about now.” The elevator doors slid open behind him. Tony swore under his breath. “Witchcraft. It has to be,” he murmured. Louder, he said “Pepper!” He turned slowly. ”Light of my life! Captain of my soul! Keeper of my- what the fuck!”

“I wonder where she keeps his what the fuck,” Bucky whispered.

Steve ignored him, attention locked on the tall dark-skinned man standing in front of the elevator. He wore a full Air Force dress uniform and a grin from ear-to-ear. “Funny. I didn’t know a couple months abroad had turned me into a stunning, redheaded woman.”

“You forgot brilliant,” Pepper said as she stepped out from behind the man. She came towards Tony, Natasha trailing behind and detouring to stand next to Clint. Pepper wrapped an arm around the her stupefied boss when she reached him and pecked him softly on the cheek. “Hi, Tony. Happy birthday.” 

That apparently gave Tony the ability to speak again. As Pepper released him to go take a seat on the couch, he said “Rhodey, you son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing here?”

“With a greeting like that, I really don’t know.” He pulled off his blue flight cap and strode into the room, stopping in front of Tony.

“Weren’t you supposed to be gone for, like, a year?” Tony asked incredulously. Steve really wished he could see his face right now.

Rhodey shrugged. “I just told them it was Tony Stark’s birthday and they dropped everything to get me home. You were right. Apparently you are the most important person in the world.” Tony scoffed. “Okay, fine. There’s things going on that need me in New York that are really boring and you aren’t allowed to know about anyway. I did call in a couple of favors so I could get in early, you know, maybe swing by and wish an old friend and...ohmygod please don’t tell me you’re going to cry.”

“Shut up you bastard and give me a hug.”

Rhodey happily obliged, clapping Tony on the back as he pulled him in for a tight hug. “Happy birthday, Tony,” he said as he released him. “What’re you, finally out of your teens?”

“No, don’t ask about-“

“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOUUUU BUT I’M FEELING TWENTY TWOOOOOO!”

Tony groaned, bring his hand up to cover his face. Rhodey stepped around Tony to face the rest of the room. “Hi, Clint.”

“Sup, Rhodes?” Clint lifted his hand and waggled his fingers in a strange approximation of a wave. “How’re the planes?”

“Good, thanks,” Rhodey replied. “And you must be Steve.” Steve blinked, realizing that Rhodey was now standing in front of him. Tony hurried over.

“Oh, right. Steve, Rhodey, Rhodey, Steve.” Steve stuck out his hand, slightly nervous. He’d heard a lot about Rhodey in his exchanges with Tony. It was plenty obvious that Rhodey’s opinion was one of the rare few that Tony respected and from the way Rhodey was staring him down, it seemed that the man was maybe a little protective of his younger best friend.

Rhodey clasped his hand, grip firm. His countenance remained stern as he stared at Steve, quietly assessing. Steve fought down the urge to reach up with his free hand and smooth down his hair. Finally, after what felt like hours, Rhodey’s features relaxed into a friendly smile. “Nice to finally meet the first person to break Tony.”

Rhodey jumped, dropping Steve’s hand to rub at his arm where Tony had pinched him. “Uh, what?” Steve asked, confused and more than a little intrigued.

“Nothing, nothing,” Tony said hastily. “Who’s ready for another beer? Rhodey, I think you need a beer!” Bucky cleared his throat. “Oh, right.” Tony exhaled tiredly. “And this is Steve’s sidekick.” 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Tony before turning back to Rhodey and sticking out his hand. “James Barnes.” Rhodey shook it, gaze flicking over the hand still dangling at Bucky’s side.

“Pleasure,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “So Tony, you were saying something about a beer?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “I think a few drinks might be just what I need to get me telling Steve all my best stories.”

“On second thought, why don’t you just have a slice of pizza?”

\--

A few hours later, they sat sprawled around the coffee table, Tony’s tiramisu cake sitting in the middle. Empty beer bottles were scattered around, some on coasters on the table but most on the carpet beneath it. The air was festive, a slight beer buzz floating over the entire room. Except maybe Natasha. Steve had definitely seen her throw back a few but she was as ramrod straight as ever while he was having a little trouble even raising his head off Tony’s shoulder (but then again, that might be for a different reason).

He smiled softly. Despite Tony and Bucky’s best efforts, everyone seemed to be getting along. Maybe because of how vulnerable and genuine it had made Tony seem (or maybe it was just the beer and Steve’s wishful thinking) but Rhodey’s story about their night out after Tony had first met Steve seemed to have cooled Bucky some (or that could just be the presence of Natasha. He’d seen Bucky shooting her a few coveting glances).

A small snort escaped his nose as he once again pictured Tony trying to communicate in Finnish in an attempt to pick up a man that looked vaguely like him. Steve felt Tony’s beard scrape against the top of his head as he turned to peer down at Steve. “You’re thinking about Rhodey’s story again, aren’t you?” Tony shot a glare at his best friend, who was slumped low in an armchair, head lolling back against the cushions. “I am never going to live this down. Thanks a lot, _pal_.”

Steve lifted his head, only pulling away enough that he could look Tony in the eye. “I think it’s cute.”

Tony stared at him. Steve stared back. “Are you drunk?”

Steve shrugged. “Only a little.”

“How?” Clint exclaimed. “You’ve had probably an entire case of beer to yourself!”

Steve tilted his head, thinking about it. There was a slight fuzz behind his eyes (other than the usual haze his brain seemed to descend into whenever he was around one Tony Stark) but his stomach felt great and the world was still straight (except him. He was gay. Gay gay gayyyyy. Ha ha. Shit, maybe he was more drunk than he thought). He mostly just felt relaxed (though his inner voice seemed to have gotten louder. And more persistent).

“Steve is a tank,” Bucky piped up. “One time, he did thirteen shots in an hour. THIRTEEN. And he still managed to walk perfectly along the cracks in the sidewalk all the way back to our dorm.”

Tony squinted at him. “I thought you didn’t drink?”

“I don’t really. I don’t like the loss of control and it’s an expensive habit, since it doesn’t really effect me. Besides, most of it tastes gross.” He held up his bottle. “Except beer. I like beer. Give me a good ol’ stout over a whiskey any day.”

Rhodey snorted. “Uh oh. Them’s fighting words. I think if Tony could, he’d walk around with an IV of single malt scotch.”

Pepper reached a hand over the arm of the couch and pinched Rhodey. “Ow! Why does everyone keep _doing_ that?”

“Rhodey is definitely drunk,” Clint announced from his spot on the floor.

Pepper ignored him, returning her attention to the cake. She pushed the last candle in and ran a finger over the rest, counting them silently. Steve was half-expecting Tony to have some sort of contraption specially designed for lighting birthday candles but to his slight disappointment, Pepper just used an ordinary box of matches.

“Hey Clint, how old is Tony again?” Bucky called from the other armchair.

“TWENTY TOOOOOOOOO-OO-OO!”

Tony pulled his arm from around Steve’s shoulders so he could cover both his ears. “Jesus, Clint, you sound like a farmer calling for his stray pigs.”

“No, that sounds like this.” He opened his mouth but before he could make a sound, Natasha leaned over and clapped a hand over it.

“I don’t think we really need an example.” She raised an eyebrow. “Also, if you think licking my hand is going to make me drop it, you really need to hear some stories of what that hand’s seen.”

Clint’s entire face crumpled into a expression of disgust as he shrank back against the TV stand behind him. Natasha pulled her hand away, calmly wiping it on the shoulder of Clint’s t-shirt. “C’mon Stark, let’s get on with it, cake’s a-waiting.”

“Are you a tiramisu girl? Funny, I always had you pegged as a cheesecake person.” He lifted a finger to his lips, thoughtfully. “Don’t really know why.”

Natasha's response was to stand up smoothly and hold out a knife for him to take (where the hell had that come from?).

Tony stared at it, eyes wide. 

“Uh, I think we should just use this little plastic one that came with the cake,” Steve said, unable to tear his eyes away from the glint of the extremely-pointy weapon.

Natasha shrugged and the knife disappeared again.

“Okay, the cake is turning into a big puddle of wax,” Pepper said. “I think it’s time to sing.”

Steve poked Tony, urging him closer to the cake. Tony slid down onto the floor so that the low coffee table was at chest level, the small flames dancing in front of his eyes.

Steve started off the song and everybody joined in (Clint casting a wary eye at Natasha before he opened his mouth) what was possibly the worst rendition of Happy Birthday that was ever sung. Steve didn’t even know how they all managed to finish seconds apart, with Tony impatiently waiting for Rhodey to round off his last ‘youuuuuuuuuu’ before leaning forward and blowing out the candles.

“What’d you wish for?” Clint asked.

Tony smirked, opening his mouth.

Just then, the elevator chimed and every head in the room turned. The doors slid open and a middle-aged man in a shirt and slacks stepped out. He had no hair on his head but more than made up for it with the growth on his face.

“That...is not what I wished for.”

“Tony, man, you really need to work on your greetings.”

“Shut up, Rhodey,” Tony replied, standing up. He picked his way over the legs stretched out along his path and grinned at the man stepping into the room. “Obie! I didn’t think you’d be dropping by!”

“And miss your birthday? For shame!” Obie’s eyes flicked over to the others staring at him. “And it seems like I’m just in time for cake.” He turned his attention back to the man approaching him. “Here,” he said, slinging his left hand over Tony’s shoulders and presenting him with the bottle of whiskey clutched in his right. “Got you a present. It’s a 50-year.” He squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t go drinking it all at once, you hear.”

Tony accepted it gratefully, smiling brightly up at Obie. “Thank you. You wanna join us?” He swept his arm out towards the group around the coffee table.

“Actually Tony, since I’m here, I wondered if we could maybe talk about a couple of things.”

Steve saw Tony’s smile flicker slightly, but he nodded and followed Obie out onto the balcony. Steve noticed Tony hadn’t even looked back to introduce the stranger or excuse himself.

He heard a sigh from behind him and turned to find Pepper wearing a slightly annoyed expression on her face.

Steve was an artist, it was his job to observe. So he had noticed the way Natasha’s fingers tightened briefly, as if grasping for a weapon that wasn’t there, when Obie had his arm around Tony, the way Clint’s eyes narrowed disapprovingly as Obie handed Tony the bottle of scotch. And of course, the not-so-subtle way Pepper glared at Obie when he took Tony away to talk in private.

“Who’s the asshole?” It was times like this Steve was grateful for Bucky’s lack of tact.

“Obadiah Stane. He’s head of SI,” Pepper replied curtly.

“I thought Tony was head of SI,” Steve said.

“Officially, yeah. But Stane’s the one who tells Tony what to do,” Rhodey chimed in. “Tony’s known him his whole life, friend of his father. I think it’s safe to say that Tony considers him more of a dad than his real one, though.” However glad Steve was for this pretty significant insight into Tony’s relationship with the man, he didn’t think Tony would approve of a roomful of people knowing that. And he knew Pepper agreed when she shot Rhodey a look that seemed to chasten him way more than any pinch to his arm had (Pepper and Tony seemed to have strangely similar approaches to taming their friends).

“Let’s just have some cake.” She sighed again. “They’ll probably be awhile.” She and Natasha speedily pulled out the candles and Pepper picked up the plastic knife to start slicing the cake.

Steve munched on his piece slowly, ignoring the chatter that had resumed around him and silently watching Tony and Stane through the glass. They were discussing something with heads low and voices hushed, though it seemed like Obie was doing most of the talking and Tony was just nodding along. Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen that expression on Tony’s face before. The quietly deferential look didn’t suit him at all. 

Steve felt a strange heat rise in his chest. This was the man who decided that Tony should keep part of his life a secret, the man who dictated that Tony circulate around, sucking up to poisonous people who didn’t want him for anything except for his money. Tony had never said as much directly, but he knew through passing conversation, through glimpses of exchanges with Pepper, that Stane was the one behind every crappy thing Tony had to do in the name of his company. Looking at the idolizing look on Tony’s face, it was easy to see that the younger man would do anything Stane asked, even if it meant stifling his own self.

Deciding Stane had stolen away Tony long enough, he picked up two slices of cake and headed outside. Sliding the door open with his elbow, he cleared his throat and held out a plate to each of them (because it would have just been rude not to give some to Stane, no matter how much he disliked the guy. Hopefully he would choke on it). “Thought you guys would like some cake.”

Stane looked up at Steve, mildly annoyed expression on his face quickly buried beneath an insincere smile. “And you are...?”

Tony took the plates from Steve and set them down on the wall beneath the railing. “Obie, this is Steve.”

Steve nodded. “Pleasure to meet you,”

Stane’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, Steve! So you’re the reason Tony’s been so occupied!”

Tony shifted uncomfortably. “Obie, you know I said I’d have the missile done in a couple of days.”

“Sorry, we thought the man should get to celebrate his birthday,” Steve said coldly. The alcohol coursing through his veins was feeding him a bravado he wouldn’t even begin to contemplate otherwise. “With, you know, his real friends.”

Stane nodded, fake smile still pasted on his face. “Of course. I was just kidding.” He clapped Tony on the shoulder. “I’m very happy for you.” Steve barely managed to stifle a snort at how transparently false the statement was. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting quite late and an old man like me needs his rest.”

Steve’s eyes followed Stane all the way out, watching as he stepped swiftly towards the elevator without so much as even a glance at the others (apparently the dislike between him and Pepper was mutual).

“Why did you do that?” Tony hissed.

Steve turned back to find Tony glaring at him.“What?” he said, slightly thrown to find such a harsh gaze directed at him. “He works you to the bone. I’ve seen how tired you are by the time you get to Boston.”

“That’s not his fault. I get caught up in my work sometimes and I don’t sleep. My brain just works that way, I’ve told you that.”

Steve huffed. “Yeah, okay.”

“ _What_ is your _problem_?”

He sighed, dropping his gaze. “Nothing, it’s fine. Sorry.” 

And Steve should really have just left at that. But the others’ reactions were still niggling at him and that last beer had probably been one too many and he...he’d been stifling his thoughts around Tony for far too long, tiptoeing around every issue that flashed its skin before Tony managed to tuck it back away beneath his shell. He brought his head back up, unsurprised to find Tony still frowning at him. “It’s just...” Steve took a deep breath. “I don’t think he treats you very well.”

Tony’s frown deepened, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “You’ve barely met the guy and you can’t even _begin_ to understand our relationship.” His eyes narrowed suddenly and he took a half-step back. “Oh I get it. This is about keeping it a secret.” Steve didn’t respond, which apparently Tony took as agreement. “I thought you said you understood. You said you were fine with it.”

“It’s not about that. He’s making you deny who you are and that’s not good for anyone. He says he’s happy for you? Then why not let you be happy?”

Tony fisted his hand in his hair, whirling away from Steve. “I am happy! I don’t need the whole world to know for it to be valid.” He spun back, eyes fierce. “Unless that’s what _you_ want,” he said scathingly, hand moving from his head to poke at Steve’s chest. “To be able to tell the world that you’re dating Tony Stark, notorious playboy, the wild beast that couldn’t be tamed.”

Steve reeled back, feeling for all the world like Tony had just punched him. He had no idea how this conversation had gone from zero to sixty in about three seconds but it was clearly doomed for a crash. “You know that’s not what this is,” he said quietly. “And if that’s what you really think then I don’t know what the hell we’ve been doing.”

He spun on his heel and moved towards the door.

“Steve!” Tony grabbed at his sleeve. “Steve, wait. I didn’t...I didn’t mean it.” He dropped his hand when Steve half turned, keeping his palm on the door handle. Steve looked up to meet his gaze only to have Tony’s eyes skitter away. “I’m sorry, okay?” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I just...I don’t understand why you’re pushing this.”

Steve sighed. “This isn’t really the time or the place to talk about it. Let’s just go enjoy the last...” He looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes of your birthday.”

Tony swept his gaze over Steve’s face. He nodded silently. Steve turned back to the door but paused as Tony said “You go ahead. I’m just going to grab the cake.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Okay.” He slid open the glass door and stepped back inside, pretending not to notice when Tony shut it behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve came awake slowly, unsure what had woken him. Not that it would have been particularly challenging. He’d tossed and turned for hours after creeping quietly into Tony’s room, about twenty minutes after the other man had claimed a headache and begged off to bed. Ostensibly, Tony had been fast asleep when Steve had slid silently into the gigantic bed but Steve suspected that was far from true. He himself had lain awake, thoughts chasing each other endlessly around his brain like they’d been fed some kind of amphetamine instead of the beer he’d flooded his bloodstream with, until finally light began to creep through the shades of Tony’s room and sheer tiredness had led him into a restless sleep.

He blinked wearily, eyes feeling as crusty as apple crumble, and after a couple of seconds grew focused enough to realize the sound he was hearing was the whisper of fabric sliding against itself. He raised his head over his shoulder, trying to find the source, and found Tony standing in front of the large mirror hanging on the wardrobe, long fingers expertly knotting a lilac tie that was slung around his neck. Tony must have noticed him in the mirror as he turned suddenly, shooting Steve a rueful smile.

“Sorry,” he whispered, hands still working. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Steve pushed himself up onto his elbow and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. “’s fine,” he said, voice hoarse with interrupted sleep. “What’re you doing up so early?”

Tony pushed the completed knot up, cinching the tie around his neck. His eyes were filled with fondness as he looked down at Steve, smile stretching wider. “I am a working man, you know. This is what we do. Besides,” he added, efficiently folding down his collar, “it’s almost eleven. Not exactly what I’d call the crack of dawn.”

Steve blinked, a little taken aback. He usually woke at the latest by nine everyday. Weekday, weekend, his body was just wired that way. He pushed himself up into a seated position and peered over his other shoulder for a glimpse of the clock on the bedside table. Sure enough, it currently read 10:47am. He looked back at Tony to find the other man running his hand over his hair and giving himself one last once-over. Satisfied, he grabbed some socks and a pair of shoes from the rack next to the mirror and came over to sit on the end of the bed. 

“Do you have a board meeting?” Steve asked, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He cleared his throat, trying to force some life back into his voice.

“Nah, just a thing with a couple of investors. We’re trying to sell them on a new product,” Tony replied as he tugged on his socks.

Steve nodded, then, realizing Tony couldn’t see him, said, “Oh.”

“What time are you guys leaving?” Tony’s words were vaguely muted as he bent over to press his heel into the expensive leather shoes.

“Probably in a couple of hours. Bucky’s supposed to pick up the rental car at noon.”

“He make it back to yours alright?”

“Errr, I think so?” Steve leaned back slightly, stretching his arm to grab his phone off the bedside table. He squinted at it, trying to see if Bucky had made any attempts at contact. All his home screen showed was a picture of the sky he’d snapped when he’d first got the phone, excited to actually have a camera in his pocket at all times. Steve stared at it, knowing what picture he’d like to have there instead. He glanced up. Tony was still hunched over, presumably tying the laces on his shoes. 

Steve stared at his back, wondering if he should bring up their conversation from last night. Tony seemed to either have forgotten it or decided to pretend it had never happened. Steve was guessing it was the latter since Tony hadn’t actually been the drunker of the two of them, as far as he could tell. Steve was beginning to see the biggest flaw in starting a relationship the way they had. Despite how much of himself Tony had shared with him over email, there was still some things about the man that were a total mystery to Steve, starting with an almost complete lack of knowledge on how to interpret his body language. And it was quickly becoming apparent that body language was the way Tony was most honest now that he didn't have a computer to hide behind.

Tony pushed off the bed, brushing his hands on his pants as he stepped over to his desk chair to grab his suit jacket. He shook it out briefly, turning to look back at Steve. “So, lazybones, you planning on getting out of bed or are you going to channel Clint on his day off and sleep until five?” Steve gaped at him, momentarily distracted from his winding thoughts. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how anyone could sleep that long. “I guess that’s a no. That’s a pity. Thought you’d finally gotten over your early bird gets the worm mindset. It’s fun seeing you all sleepy and muddled while I’m fully dressed and raring to go.” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, fine, not _raring_ exactly.” Tony swung his jacket over his shoulder and came towards Steve’s side of the bed. “Either way, you look pretty darn adorable like this.” He grinned down at Steve. “It’s so cute it’s even got me saying things like darn.”

Steve huffed. He hated being called cute.

“And now you’re pouting. That’s even cuter.” Tony bent down and pressed his lips to Steve. Steve reflexively pressed back, letting go off his phone so he could rest a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Ugh, morning breath, that’s not cute at all,” Tony said when he pulled back, nose wrinkled. “Okay, I’m gonna grab some breakfast and maybe a fourth cup of coffee before I head out.”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Steve replied. He watched Tony exit the room jauntily, then slumped back against the pillows. Maybe their talk could wait. Or maybe they didn’t need to talk at all. Everything seemed fine enough. He was sure if something really was an issue, it would come up again on its own. Steve had decided at the beginning of this thing that he was going to go with the flow for once and that hadn’t let him down so far. Mind made up, he rolled slowly out of the comfy bed and went to brush his teeth.

***

Tony walked into the kitchen to find Rhodey sitting at the same stool he’d been the last time Tony had seen him, before he’d left and before all this, before Steve. God, it felt like ages ago.

This time Rhodey was at least holding himself upright and was sipping tentatively at a steaming mug of coffee.

“Morning, sunshine,” Tony said, going towards the coffee pot to pour his fourth (okay fine, sixth. But the two before he brushed his teeth didn’t really count) cup of the day. “You’re suspiciously lively for the morning after a night with me.”

“You must be losing your touch,” Rhodey murmured around his cup. “Or maybe it’s the fact that you bailed at what, midnight?”

“Sorry, had to go before I turned back into a pumpkin.”

“I thought you were looking a little orange today,” Rhodey deadpanned, setting his mug down. He looked up at Tony, eyes suddenly sharp. “Seriously though, what was up with that? Did Stane tell you off for not doing you homework or something?”

Tony shrugged. “Had a headache, like I said.” He turned and reached up into a cupboard to pull down a box of strawberry-filled Pop-Tarts (the fruit ones made it a little easier for him to pretend he was having a nutritious breakfast), popping two in the toaster. The toaster definitely needed an upgrade. Two minutes was far too long to wait for Pop-Tarts, especially when one’s best friend was in the same room and interrogating one about things one didn’t want to talk about.

“Sounds like a Stane-induced headache to me.” Tony sighed, turning back around if only so that he could pick up his coffee from the island Rhodey was seated at. Rhodey squinted at him. “Unless you and Steve had a fight?”

“Nope.” Tony spun around again, away from Rhodey’s knowing stare. Nope, they did not, everything was dandy and he was sticking to that story (denial, after all, was one of his greatest gifts so why not make use of it?). He went back to staring at the toaster in the hope that his laser-vision had finally kicked in and his gaze would help the Pop-Tarts cook faster (avoiding Rhodey’s judge-y face was just a side-effect).

“Oooooookay.” Tony heard the scrape of ceramic on marble. “So I was wondering if I could borrow one of your cars.”

That had Tony’s attention. He turned to face his friend. “Why?”

“Because I don’t have one?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why do you need one?” he clarified.

“To drive to Boston. Figured since I was here, I may as well attend the MIT Commencement.”

“Oh, you’re going too?” Steve asked, wandering into the kitchen in his rumpled blue pajamas and plain white t-shirt. He looked a great deal more awake now, Tony was sad to see, his eyes alert and hair no longer ruffled by sleep.

“Yeah, thought I’d see my little Air Force babies graduate,” Rhodey replied as Steve went to the fridge.

“You mean your ‘maggots’?” Tony asked wryly.

“Hey, it’s called tough love.” Rhodey held his hands up in defense.

Steve looked up at them suddenly over the refrigerator door. “Ohmygod, you’re Sergeant Suckass!”

Rhodey squeaked while Tony burst out laughing. “I’m what?!”

Steve flushed. “Sorry. I...I have a friend at MIT and she spent all of freshman year complaining about her CO.” Tony slumped against the counter, mirth weakening his muscles, while Rhodey did his best impression of a fish. “If it makes you feel any better, I think she complained so much because she secretly had a crush on you.”

This did not, in fact, seem to make Rhodey feel any better. “I’m going to _kill_ her,” he murmured.

Steve pulled back from the fridge and closed the door, a carton of yoghurt and some strawberries in hand. Tony wrinkled his nose as Steve bent down to pull out a bag of granola. Catching his expression when he resurfaced, Steve said, “I can’t believe you find this disgusting when you’re holding _that_.” He pointed at the Pop-Tart in Tony’s hand with his thumb, juggling his parfait ingredients. Tony responded by taking a huge bite of warm pastry.

Steve just shook his head and went to the island, setting the food down on the countertop. “So should I be telling Peggy to head for the hills?” Steve asked Rhodey as he turned back for a bowl.

“Wait, so you and Peggy know each other?” Tony cut in, flecks of PopTart flying out of his mouth.

“Yeah, she was one of my freshman,” Rhodey answered, shifting uneasily. “But I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated.” Tony narrowed his eyes at him. There was something he was missing here, something ticking at a corner of his brain that he couldn’t seem to get a lock on.

“That’s pretty crazy,” Steve said, oblivious to the scrutinizing expression Tony was flashing Rhodey. He rinsed a handful of strawberries and dumped them onto the chopping block. “I mean, that our close friends knew each other. Not that you haven’t really talked to her since you graduated.” Steve looked up from his slicing. “Although, if you haven’t been keeping in touch, how come you’re going to her graduation?”

“Yeah, Rhodey. Why _are_ you going to her graduation?”

Rhodey shrugged haphazardly. “It’s the first time I’ve been able to go to one since my own. Besides, I’m not just going for her, there was a whole gang of maggots.”

Steve seemed to accept that and returned to preparing his breakfast. 

Tony, on the other hand, could definitely smell something. Something that smacked a lot more of fish than freshly cut strawberries. “You know, maybe I’ll come for Commencement after all. I haven’t worn my brass rat in ages.”

Tony thought he saw a flash of panic in Rhodey’s eyes but it was gone before he could look closer. “Nah, you don’t want to do that, steal all the attention from those poor kids.”

“No, I think it’ll be fun. I won’t announce myself or anything. At least, not until the end,” he added as an afterthought, because he’d been playing it low-key a little too much lately and his ego was feeling a little underfed.

Steve smiled up at Tony. ”I’m sure Peggy and Bruce would really appreciate you being there. Especially Bruce.”

“Well it’s settled then. I’ll take the jet early tomorrow morning and meet up with you guys there.” He smirked at Rhodey. “I wouldn’t want to miss the maggots reuniting with their dear Sergeant Suckass after all.” He glanced at the titanium watch he’d put on to go with his suit (and also because Pepper said it made him look less like a college burnout and more like a working professional). “Okay children, time for daddy to go earn some dollar dollar bills.” He downed his coffee and gave Steve a quick kiss before waltzing out the door, briefcase in one hand and half a Pop-Tart in the other. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he called.

“Wait!” Rhodey called back. “What about your car?”

“You can just ride with me,” Tony replied, walking backwards down the hallway. “Doesn’t a private jet ride with your amazing best friend sound a lot better than a four hour car ride alone?” Rhodey opened his mouth. “Don’t answer that.” The elevator doors slid open behind him with a ding. “Because the only answer is hellsssss yeah!” He flashed his favored peace sign and took a step backward into the elevator, holding his shit-eating grin until the doors closed. 

Rhodey frowned, staring after Tony. He looked back at Steve, who was watching him, a small smile on his face showing between bites of parfait. “Your boyfriend is a huge dick.”

“That does seem to be the popular opinion, yes,” Steve replied, laughter in his voice. “You know, you can ride with us if you want. Me and Bucky, I mean.”

Rhodey looked at him, considering. This could be his chance to really figure out who the hell this guy was, this person that Tony had fallen so fast and hard for and that Peggy was so desperate to protect. “Hmm, maybe. I do have a couple things I have to do though. What time are you guys leaving?”

“Well, supposedly before one but I haven’t checked in with Bucky yet and he has a habit of disappearing when he’s drunk. Usually to girls’ apartments.” Rhodey grinned. “I should call him.”

Steve pulled out his phone to do just that, leaving Rhodey to figure out what the hell he was going to do about tomorrow. It wasn’t that big of a deal, right? Even if Tony did figure it out (which, given his genius intellect and the not-so-challenging puzzle the situation presented, he was probably going to do), it wasn’t like they had done anything _wrong_. All they’d done was give their friends a little nudge in the right direction. Tony and Steve probably would have found each other anyway. 

Rhodey sighed. Who was he kidding? Tony’s ability to maintain a relationship was already so fragile and he absolutely hated being manipulated. This was probably going to blow up spectacularly in their faces.

A loud yell rang out from Steve’s phone, distracting him from moping about the fact his best friend was never going to speak to him again. Rhodey dragged his attention back to the man sitting across from him.

“Bucky? Bucky, are you alright? Hello? Bucky? Oh, hey, what happe-“

Steve slowly pulled the phone away from his face, eyes wide. “He hung up on me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it was weird. We were talking about the car and I guess he noticed there was another person in bed with him and then suddenly he just freaked out and it sounded like he dropped the phone? He said he’d call me back in a bit.”

Rhodey stared at Steve, brow creased in confusion. “That’s weird. Why would he...wait.” Rhodey grinned suddenly, confusion giving way to sheer glee. “He said there was another person in bed with him?”

“Yeah, he sounded pretty pleased about it at first, though he didn’t seem to remember much.” Steve grimaced. “That’s _my_ bed. I’m going to have burn those sheets. I really liked those sheets,” he added forlonly. Rhodey guffawed and Steve focused his gaze on him. “Why, what do you know?”

“I know that Bucky kept drinking after you followed Tony to bed. We all did, but Bucky was definitely a few miles ahead. And I know a certain person left with him to make sure he made it home safe.”

Steve perked up. “Who?”

Rhodey smirked.

***

“Holy shit, Barton, what the fuck!”

Clint was a light sleeper. He’d had to be growing up, not knowing what he was going to wake up to or where and he hated that feeling, that disorientation. So when Bucky’s phone had vibrated angrily and Bucky had finally answered, Clint had regained full consciousness and already started putting together the pieces of last night. Bucky, it seemed, did not have this skill and had maintained a half-vegetative state mostly through his phone conversation, until he’d turned slightly and his leg had brushed against another. That had his voice perking up and him turning even more and Clint just lay there, waiting for the inevitable.

Sure enough, Bucky had delivered fully and without prejudice. He’d reacted so violently to the sight of Clint lying in bed next to him that he’d accidentally flung his phone halfway across the room, sending it crashing into the wall behind him. After he’d picked it up and hung up on what was apparently Steve, he’d gaped at Clint for a full minute while Clint just stared calmly back, laying as comfortably as he could in this godforsaken lump Steve called a bed.

“Morning to you too, Barnes. Although now that we’ve spent the night together I think we deserve to be on a first-name basis, don’t you?” Bucky’s eyes grew, if possible, even wider. “Do you prefer Bucky or James? Or is Bucky just a bro thing between you and Steve? Because that would definitely be creepy for me to call you that in the bedroom, I’m not really into the whole incest thing and I really don’t want either of us to be thinking about Tony’s boyfriend while we’re together.”

That seemed to bring Bucky back to life. “What the _hell_ are you talking about?” He took a step back so he was pressed up against the wall, trying to put as much distance between them as possible (which, in this tiny room, wasn’t much). “I didn’t...I don’t...oh god I couldn’t have...”

Clint grinned at him, deciding he better set him straight (in every sense of the word) before Bucky had an aneurysm. “Oh my god, calm your tits, I was just kidding. Nothing happened and believe me, nothing ever will.”

Bucky visibly sagged in relief. “Oh thank god.” Then he frowned. “Wait, why? Are you saying I’m not attractive?”

Clint rolled his eyes, He pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes. “And you called _me_ an idiot,” he mumbled. He looked up at Bucky. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“ _Me_?! What the hell is wrong with _you_?! What are you even _doing_ here?!”

“You know, you have a lot of energy considering how drunk you were last night.”

“Well, turns out finding a man in my bed is a great hangover cure,” Bucky spat.

“Technically, it’s Steve’s bed.” Clint bounced a little, frowning. “And what an absolutely terrible bed it is. Seriously, where did he get this piece of crap?”

“Craigslist. It’s his go-to site for everything nowadays.” Clint snorted, filing that little fact away to share with Tony later. “Now, will you stop distracting me and give me some goddamn answers?”

“Only if you stop shrieking like Regina George finding out the truth about Kalteen bars.”

That seemed to shut him up, though Clint wasn’t sure if it was the request or the Mean Girls reference that did it.

Clint sighed. “I didn’t come here to steal your virtue. Contrary to what you seem to believe, you are not every gay man’s wet dream come true. Although, considering your best friend is gay and seems to be harboring no secret desires to rip your clothes off, you think you would know that.”

Bucky opened his mouth but Clint cut him off before he could speak. “Yeah, yeah I’m explaining.” Clint ran a hand through his hair, trying to get it out of its bed-head state. “You got pretty wasted last night and Natasha didn’t think you’d make it home okay so I volunteered to take you. Saved her a trip and saved you from looking like a complete ass. Also probably saved your life, since you inevitably would have tried to grope her in your drunken and inexplicably horny state and I highly doubt she would have taken that well.”

Bucky blinked. “Oh. Uh. Thanks, I guess?”

“Whatevs man.” Clint shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m a natural-born hawkblocker.” Bucky just stared at him. “What?”

“You mean _cock_ blocker?”

Clint raised his eyebrows. “Is that what it’s called?” Bucky nodded exasperatedly.”Ohhhhh. That makes a lot more sense! I guess Ron always called me a hawkblocker because he called his co-“

Bucky clapped his hands over his ears. “Jesus, Barton, what kind of friends do you have?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call him a friend, exactly. More like a guy who...actually, you know what, despite the fact that we spent a lovely night together I really don’t know you well enough to be talking about this. I should probably get going anyway.” He glanced at the phone Bucky had dropped back on the bed after he hung up on Steve. “What time is it?”

Bucky picked it up, clicking the lock button so it lit up. “Just past eleven.”

“Shit!” Clint tried to leap out of the bed and tangled in the blankets so that he faceplanted into the floor instead. He got up quickly, ignoring Bucky’s peals of laughter, and scanned the floor for his shoes. “Fuck, I’m so fucking late, they’re going to kill me,” he muttered, finding his shoes over by the fridge and snatching them up. He pulled them on, hopping slightly as he struggled through the tight laces on his left shoe. 

“Catch.” Clint looked up in time to see his wallet flying at him and grabbed it out of the air.

“Thanks,” he replied, stuffing it in his back pocket as he headed for the door. He pulled it open and turned back, unable to resist despite the stress. “And thanks for the lovely night!” He winked and slipped out the door, closing it before the pillow Bucky chucked could hit him.

He galloped down the stairs, cursing Steve for living in the fucking _East Village_ of all places. No time to go home, he’d just have to pick up a pack of mints and sample some cologne at the next Duane Reade. This was not good. This was so, so bad. Pizza delivery guys were way too easily replaceable in a city as crowded as this one. “Come _on_ , Barton, get your shit together!”

The subway was about six blocks away and Clint sprinted, hoping a couple of squirts of Ralph Lauren would be enough to cover up the rank sweat he could feel building up on his skin. And of course, there was a fucking delay on the train. Clint groaned, banging his head against the pole in the middle of the subway car.

By the time he got back to midtown, it was a quarter-to-twelve. He ducked into the pharmacy two stores down from the small pizzeria and stuffed three mints into his mouth, pulling the drenched shirt away from his back. The streets were already crowded with office workers heading to lunch, making the quick trip from the pharmacy to the restaurant more like a game of dodgeball than a couple of steps down the sidewalk. He stopped in front of the doors, swiped at his face, and stepped in.

Despite the afternoon rush, Paolo, the manager, was on him in an instant. “You’re nearly an hour late,” he said. Clint nodded nervously, not sure if the calm tone was a good sign or a bad one. “That’s the third time this month.”

“I’m so, so, sorry, I can explain-“

“You’re fired.”

Okay. A bad one then.


	5. Chapter 5

The plane ride to Boston was surprisingly silent. When Rhodey had gotten stuck at work and been unable to leave with Steve and Bucky, Tony had thought it would be a good chance to get some real bro time in. Rhodey, however, clearly had something weighing heavily on his mind, something that seemed to have sprouted up between breakfast yesterday and the early liftoff this morning. The soldier had only hummed distractedly when Tony had tried to finagle him into spilling something about his relationship with Peggy.

Tony sighed, stretching his legs out and staring out the window, chin in hand. If he was being honest with himself (and when had that started happening?), he’d been hoping that having Rhodey would have served as a distraction from his own thoughts. And hadn’t _that_ backfired spectacularly. It seemed that cogitation was contagious and now Tony found himself caught in the unfortunate act of self-reflection.

The truth was, Tony was exhausted. He’d been trying his hardest to ignore the feeling that dogged him day and night, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that he couldn’t just pour a cup of coffee over or distract himself from with a new project. This was fatigue of the worst kind, weariness building from holding on tight to the perpetual skin he wore over his own. He wasn’t a chameleon by nature, this was something he had to work at each minute of every day, had been doing so his entire life. But somehow, it had always been easier before. He’d been able to do it almost subconsciously, let it happen as naturally as the beat of his heart or the snap of his eyelids, as easy as breathing.

Lately though, it had become harder than ever. It was like those moments when you became aware of your breath and suddenly you had no idea how to do it properly, how to maintain the natural rhythm your body provides under its own will. He’d become aware, _Steve_ had made him aware, of just how much effort he expended each day, each moment, on maintaining his armor. Because back when Steve had been Cap, Tony had, without even realizing, completely let his armor fall away. The computer hadn’t stood for his disguise. Somehow the blinking cursor had dragged words out of him in combinations he never would have strung together otherwise. Now he’d had a taste, he knew what it felt like to have someone know the real him from the get-go, to say what he meant instead of tiptoeing around everything with snide comments and button-pushing and pleas for help hidden beneath bottles of alcohol. And now maintaining the armor was harder than ever.

It had been all too easy to just let go before, so why the fuck couldn’t he do it now? They were both the same people, even if they didn’t have monitors to hide behind. Steve just wanted what was best for him, Tony knew that, understood it in deep down in the core of him (and _that_ was not something he was ready to think about yet, no matter how introspective he was getting). Maybe if he’d been able to talk to Steve properly, instead of trying to push him away by accusing him of things he knew weren’t true, he’d have been able to make him understand why Obie was right. 

He shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortably self-aware right now and that was always dangerous territory for him, always tended to lead to self-destructive behavior (it was hard for that _not_ to be the inevitable conclusion when you hated yourself so thoroughly). Clint was wrong, Tony was a fuck-up, a thoroughly fucked up fuck-up and chances were he was going to fuck this up too.

He briefly buried his face in his hands, then pushed his hands back roughly through his hair. When he looked back up, he found Rhodey watching him. Apparently his brooding was loud enough to drag his best friend out of whatever planet he’d been on for the last twenty minutes. He waited impatiently for Rhodey to ask his question, eyes challenging, but Rhodey merely continued to stare quietly. His expression wasn’t the one he usually wore when he caught Tony self-pitying. Rhodey’s eyes were strangely considering and emotions flickered over his face like he was flipping through a rolodex of human responses. Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced up at the clocks on the wall, displaying the time in a variety of cities. “Should be landing soon.”

Right on cue, the pilot announced they were about to begin their descent. Rhodey turned away from Tony to look out his own window and Tony frowned. Either this thing with Peggy was bigger than he thought or something really Huge and Important had gone down at the base yesterday. Based on Rhodey’s abrupt change in mood between early yesterday and this morning, he suspected the latter. Resting his head heavily back against the seat, he let his eyes fall shut. He supposed he’d just have to wait and see.

***

  
Peggy was eyeing the array of pastries spread out on the rickety card table suspiciously when she heard her name being called. She turned and saw Bruce approaching, stepping awkwardly around two girls who were flashing each other the outfits they had on under their thick black robes. Peggy winced as one of the girls swung an arm out, oblivious to the man behind her and nearly clipped Bruce in the head. She snagged a croissant that felt way too hard and went to meet Bruce before he could be decapitated by an overly hyper co-ed.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly as the gap between them closed.

“Hi!” Peggy shot him a large smile. “Don’t you look all fancy!” Bruce still had his robes unzipped and they hung open to reveal a lavender shirt and deep purple tie, neatly knotted and ending at just the right length.

Bruce smiled back. “You look pretty good yourself. Very collegiate.”

Peggy laughed, twisting a little so her robes swirled around her calves. “Dang, that’s not what I was going for at all.” She held up the croissant she’d yet to sample. “You raid the breakfast table yet?”

Bruce shook his head, wrinkling his nose. “The line was way too long for something that unappetizing looking.”

“Yeah, if they’re going to drag us out here at 7am, they should at least have the decency to provide us with good food.” She brought the croissant to her nose and sniffed. “I still don’t understand why they need us here two hours early. You think they’d trust us to be able to walk in a line, that’s like grade school 101.” She nibbled tentatively at the croissant, holding it carefully so as not to drop crumbs all over her robes, and looked around at the hundreds of students milling around the small gym, all dressed in identical black robes like they were about to board the Hogwarts Express.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you before we have to get to our places.” Peggy snapped her gaze back to Bruce, attention caught by his abrupt change in tone. A somber expression had taken over his features.

“Sure,” Peggy replied in surprise. She followed him over to a quiet corner of the room, tossing the remainder of her croissant in a trash can along the way.

He turned to face her, his hands twisting and pulling at each other. “I know you’re probably going to be busy with your family and photos and all later so I just wanted to say this while I had the chance.” Peggy frowned slightly as he took a deep, shaky breath. “I just...I wanted to say thank you.” Well, that was not what she had been expecting at all. “For everything you’ve done for me. You don’t...it’s...you’ve really helped me. And I don’t think you understand just how _much_. So, uh, thanks. And I’m really sorry for everything I put you through. I know it can’t have been easy, I know that I’ve probably made your life here so much harder than it already would have been. I mean, this place is crazy and I-“

“Bruce, stop.” He closed his mouth obediently, dropping his eyes to the ground. Peggy smiled gently at him, a small twist of her lips filled with as much sadness as fondness. “I appreciate the sentiment but as hard as it may be for you to believe, I got as much out of this as you did.” She rested her hands over his, squeezing slightly to stop his relentless fidgeting. He dragged his gaze back up to her face and Peggy’s heart clenched at the disbelieving expression on his face. “Look, I know sometimes it can be hard to see the best things about yourself. It’s something I definitely struggle with. But believe me when I say, I genuinely enjoyed, _enjoy_ , our friendship. You’re kind, and witty, and caring and just so goddamn interesting to talk to, and this past year has been _so_ much better because you were in my life.” She let her hands drop back to her sides. “So thank _you_ , Bruce, for being my friend. And for letting me be yours.”

Bruce just stared at her for a moment, like she was some alien creature from one his many sci-fi novels brought to life. Then he seemed to come back to himself and he smiled, a real smile that took over his entire face, his eyes glowing bright and cheeks flushing. He opened his mouth, to say what, Peggy didn’t know because he was cut off by a voice droning at them over a megaphone to get to their spots.

“Guess you better head over to your fellow Physics nerds.” She bumped his shoulder with hers as they began to walk back towards the crowds. “Looks like it’s time for real life to begin.” She cocked her head at him. “You ready?”

He kept his sight fixed ahead, eyes following the chaos of students trying to move back to their designated holding areas. Expression thoughtful even in profile, he pursed his lips briefly. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think I just might be.”

***

“...yeah so you wear it like this while you’re still a student. See, the beaver looks like it’s sitting on your hand?” Rhodey pointed at the large flat face of his gold ring, holding his hand up for Bucky to take a closer look. “So basically, when you’re a student, you’re facing the Boston skyline and the beaver is shitting on you. And then when you graduate, you turn it around so the MIT skyline faces you instead and the beaver is shitting on the world.” He tugged the ring off and twisted it back to its usual position, leaning back against the railing.

“That’s awesome,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I don’t even know if BU _has_ class rings.”

“They do,” Steve threw out from his short distance away. He was perched against a tree, lounging in the shade as they waited for Bruce and Peggy to come out. It had been a blisteringly hot day and his shirt was thick with sweat, sticking uncomfortably against his back. Whoever thought it was a good idea to have this thing outdoors in June needed to have their head checked. 

Steve brought a hand up, covering the yawn he’d failed to stifle. Like the others had done the week before, he and Bucky had gotten up at about 5am to get a good spot for a glimpse of Peggy and Bruce. They’d ducked out as soon as their friends had received their diplomas, crossing the street to stand by the Charles river so they had the freedom to chat without interrupting the ceremony. Rhodey had found them fairly quickly, mentioning that Tony had been kidnapped by some alumnus who’d manage to spot him hiding at the back of the crowd.

“Look!” Steve turned his head to find Peggy rushing towards them, robes flapping behind her. She held her diploma high above her head. “I’m an engineer!” she cried triumphantly. Steve pushed off the tree and went to meet her, lips stretching in a smile. 

He wrapped Peggy in a tight one-armed hug when he reached her, pulling back slightly to peck her on the cheek. “Congratulations, Peg. I’m so proud of you.” He released her and handed her the bouquet he’d been holding on to for the last few hours. “These are for you.”

She accepted them with a grin, eyes dancing. “This seems familiar,” she said. “Aren’t these the flowers you got me on our first date?”

“Yeah, well you seemed to really like them so...” He trailed off, shrugging. He peered around her, asking, “Where’s Bruce?”

“Not sure. Maybe he felt rude sneaking out halfway through.”

“I see you felt no such thing.”

“Those seats are disgustingly uncomfortable, and did you see how many more they had to get through?”

“Peggalicious!” Peggy yelped as Bucky slammed into her from behind, wrapping his good arm around her waist. “You did it!”

“Nice to see you too, Bucky,” she laughed, turning so she could return his hug. Her eyebrows shot up as she caught sight of Rhodey approaching over Bucky’s shoulder and she stepped back, releasing Bucky. “James! What are you doing here?”

“What are you talking about, I...oh!” Bucky interrupted himself. “You mean that James,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the tall man behind him. “This is confusing.” He turned to Steve. “By the way, it’s really weird that both you and your boyfriend have best friends named James.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Who says you’re my best friend? I think you and Peggy should duke it out.” He grinned at Peggy only to find her mouthing something at Rhodey, who was shrugging back. Noticing Steve’s questioning eyes on her, she abruptly shut her mouth and moved forward to hug her old CO.

“Thanks for coming, Rhodes.”

“Don’t you mean Sergeant Suckass?” he asked wryly, as he released her.

Peggy spun around to shoot a glare at Steve. “Steve Rogers, you’ve got a big mouth.”

“Sorry! It was an accident! Besides, how come you never told me your CO and my boyfriend’s best friend were the same person?”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty crazy coincidence isn’t it?” Tony’s voice floated over from behind him and Steve turned to find said boyfriend sauntering over, hands tucked into his pockets and giving no indication that he was feeling the heat at all in his thick formalwear. It must come from practice. Steve felt his lips creep up of their own accord, struck once again by just how gorgeous Tony was (the perfectly tailored shirt and slacks probably didn’t hurt).

“So you and Rhodey, huh?” Tony slid between the his best friend and Peggy, slinging an arm over each. Steve frowned. At this distance, he could see Tony’s eyes were bright, almost feverish, and there was a tenseness carved into his face that Steve itched to wipe away. Wherever Tony had been seemed to have caused him a good deal of distress. The fact that Steve could even tell, could see it written in his countenance, was telling in itself. “What was it, a hookup gone bad? You were drunk and regretted it in the morning?” At their continued silence, he dropped his arms and stepped back, slipping his hands back into his pockets. “No? Well, there must be a reason you’ve been so secretive about your friendship.”

“Tony, I don’t think now is the best time...” Rhodey began.

“No, actually I think now is the perfect time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at the challenging expression Tony wore, the tightness on both Rhodey’s and Peggy’s faces. Bucky had taken a few steps back, as if sensing this was a conversation he didn’t want to be part of. The festiveness that had been in the air only moments ago had evaporated, Tony’s appearance shattering it and leaving a strange, weighted atmosphere in its place.

“Whatever this is, I don’t want to know,” Steve said. “Not today. I’m sure it can wait.”

“Of course, no, you’re right.” Tony said, nodding. He pulled his sunglasses off his face, his eyes following his fingers as he carefully folded them and pushed them into the pocket of his shirt. After a couple of pats to his pocket to ensure they were neatly tucked away, he snapped his head back up. “Hey Steve,” he said casually, “did I ever tell you the story of how I found your Craigslist ad?”

Steve looked at him, eyebrows sent skywards by the seemingly random question. “No...I guess not,” he said slowly, noticing the way Peggy had stiffened at his question.

“Well, I guess found isn’t the right word. Rhodey here sent it to me.“ He clapped said man firmly on the shoulder, knocking him slightly off-balance. “He happened to stumble onto it while he was perusing the male-for-male section of Craigslist. Weird, isn’t it, considering he’s straight as an arrow?”

“Hold on, what? Rhodey _sent_ it to you?” Steve frowned, brow furrowing as his mind crunched through this new information. “Wait, so...” His gaze bounced between Rhodey, Tony, and Peggy, finally settling on the girl he’d known forever. He took a small step towards her and said. “So _you_ sent Rhodey the ad?”

“Steve, I-“

“You knew who he was the whole time?” he exclaimed, arm jerking as he gestured wildly at Tony. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt again and he...” Peggy trailed off, sending a pleading look at Rhodey.

“It’s because I’m me,” Tony cut in, directing the words to Steve but keeping his eyes glued to his best friend. “It’s because I’m the big bad Tony Stark and you’re innocent little Steve Rogers. She was testing me to see if I was gonna fuck you over like I do everyone else.” He finally turned to face Steve, tearing his gaze away from Rhodey’s pained, apologetic expression. “I guess it’s fair. That’s what you first thought as well, if I recall.”

“No, that’s not fair at all,” Steve shot back, aching at the look on Tony’s face. “And I should never have accused you of anything like that in the first place, no matter how hurt I was.” Directing his attention to Peggy once again, he asked, “Is that really true?”

“Tony...” Rhodey tried, ignoring Steve’s question. Tony rounded on him immediately, finally unleashing the anger he’d had crawling beneath his skin and letting it flood out, sharpening his movements and raising his voice.

“What, Rhodey? What the _hell_ do you have to say?”

“Look, it’s not like it sounds, okay? This was the only way it was going to happen and I thought it was for the best...”

“What is _with_ you two and thinking you know what’s best for everyone?” he burst out. “I know MIT gives some people a god complex but seriously, even I’m not that bad and I’m a fucking genius.”

“Hey, Stark.” Tony spun towards Bucky, eyes on fire. Steve had forgotten he was even there. He wondered briefly if he’d been on it too, if everybody had known and he’d just been a completely oblivious idiot. “I think you should get out of here,” Bucky said quietly, thumbing over his shoulder.

A crowd had gathered, attention likely drawn by the raised voices. Tony swore viciously as he caught sight of the onlookers pointing at him and pulling out their cellphones. He jammed his sunglasses back on his face and spun on his heel. After a couple of steps he paused, turning his head slightly so he could throw words back over his shoulder. “Tell Bruce I said congratulations.” And with that he was gone, expertly slipping through the crowds towards the Harvard Bridge that would take him back to Boston.

Steve blinked after him, still trying to process everything that had just happened. He looked back at Rhodes and Peggy. Rhodes looked like he wanted to take off after Tony but seemed to think better of it. Steve was glad he at least knew that much about his friend.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I need to go after him. But we’re not done with this.”

“Steve, wait...” Peggy caught at his wrist as he turned to leave. He twisted his head back around, feeling the fury take over his face. Peggy immediately dropped her hand. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you.”

“And you really thought this was the best way to do it? You _lied_ to me. I went on and on, like a complete _idiot_ about fate and serendipity and signs from the universe telling me that finally, this was it, _finally_ , it was going to work and I should just trust it and hang on for the ride. And you let me! When really all along it was just you two pulling our strings, manipulating us like we were your life-size puppets. How far did it go? All those times you were giving me advice, did you have Rhodes here whispering in your ear about the right thing to say? About the perfect buttons to push to make him fall for me?” He clenched his fists at his side and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, they were slightly damp. “Didn’t you think I was good enough on my own?”

“No, Steve, it wasn’t like that at all,” Peggy insisted, stricken. “We didn’t...I mean, we gave you a little push at the beginning but that was all. Everything else was you, it was all real.”

Steve swallowed, suddenly finding himself at a loss for words. “I just...I need some time okay?” His gaze dropped to the flowers still clenched in her hands, slightly squashed and rumpled from all the excitement. “I...sorry this all came out today of all days.” He smiled wryly. “Congratulations again.” He patted her once on the shoulder and with a quick wave at Bucky and ignoring Rhodes completely, took off after Tony.

***

Tony strode down the sidewalk, numbly dodging around the odd cyclist and jogger taking advantage of the warm day. The sun glinted off the river and a crew team disappeared under him, their voices echoing as they rowed beneath the thick bridge.

He’d taken this walk many, many times back when he was an undergrad here, usually in the middle of the night when his brain was too noisy and he needed the peace of the cool river air to calm it (there had also been those memorable weeks when he’d made the mistake of pledging a frat and had spent every evening and subsequent morning shuffling back and forth between campus and the house) so his feet easily found their familiar rhythm, leading him to his favorite spot out on the grassy Esplanade and leaving his mind unfortunately free to bubble up and froth.

 _God_ , it had been a long day. This was why he didn’t do emotions. Starting his morning with deep introspection had left him feeling raw and exposed the rest of the day, not exactly the best place to be in when dealing with sycophantic, money-grubbing alumni. And then when he’d been flipping through his email and had finally made the connection his brain had been grabbing at for the past day or so, had remembered, where exactly, that first email had come from and what that meant...

It figured that on the one day that Tony decided maybe he was ready to take his walls down a bit, a fucking cannonball would come through his front door.

Fuck them, fuck all of them for thinking they knew him. He could do this, he _could_. Why was everyone always assuming he’d be the one to do the hurting? (A quiet, usually accurate and thus often suppressed part of Tony’s mind suggested that if anyone was going to get hurt from all this, it was likely to be him).

He rubbed at his eyes, shoulders sagging suddenly as the anger just drained out of him, the tiredness dragging him under again and leaving him with just the roots of his sadness. His feet slowed to a crawl, one plodding step after another. His energy was zapped like his heart had run down (maybe it finally had).

He was an idiot. Of course they were right. He could very easily see how badly this could have all gone, still could all go. After all, he had bolted on the guy right from their first meeting. Was it so unreasonable for Peggy to want to protect her best friend from that?

(But if that was the case, why wasn’t _his_ best friend protecting him? Wasn’t that what Rhodey was supposed to do, to be on his side?)

He started when he realized a man was walking perfectly in step with him, had been for awhile, and turned his head to find Steve. The taller man was keeping silent, slowing his usual long strides to match Tony’s sluggish pace. Tony quietly came to a stop and Steve followed suit. They leaned against the rail, Tony looking out at the water while Steve pressed his back to the metal, face angled to watch Tony in silence.

After a few moments, Tony spoke up. “What are you doing here?” He let the words drift down towards the river, just loud enough so they weren’t whipped away by the wind.

He glanced up to find Steve giving him a questioning glance.

“I mean, I would’ve thought...” He let his gaze drop briefly back down to the gentle water, then pushed off the railing and turned to face Steve completely. “They’re not wrong you know.” His lips twisted into a Picasso smile, disjointed and out of place. “I’m going to hurt you.”

Steve...well, Tony wanted to say he growled? Either way, the sudden fierceness in his expression made Tony’s lungs seize.

Closing his eyes, Steve took a deep breath, letting it take over his entire body. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with something far too intense for Tony to want to put a name to.

“Look, Tony, I know I’ve...I’ve gone on quite a bit about how we met, how it seemed like fate and sometimes in my more lucid moments, like a bad chick-flick. But I don’t...I’ve come to realize that none of that really matters. I thought it did but it doesn’t. This, _us_ , that’s what matters. 

“I was scared, and I know I need to stop using that as an excuse for everything but it’s the truth. I’m a big coward and I was using this idea to hide behind so I didn’t have to think about the fact that I was once again opening myself up to something that could just as well blow up in my face. And it’s not because it’s you,” he added hurriedly, as Tony felt the tiredness start to creep over his face once again. “It’s not. It’s just, and Peggy knows this, I’ve had a shitty history with this stuff and she, I guess she was just looking out for me and, despite how it looks, I’d like to think Rhodey was doing the same for you.”

Tony closed his eyes and turned away, not wanting to turn back to that yet. He rested his elbows on the railing and dropped his chin to his chest, staring at the river like it was job, like if he looked away, it would rise up and sweep them all away (maybe he should look away). 

“And as for you hurting me...yeah you probably will.” Tony’s shoulders rose up around his ears, bracketing his face. “And I’m going to hurt you too. That’s what happens when you lay yourself so bare for someone. They’re bound to step on something you didn’t want them to. But I know this much. I’ll never do it on purpose. And I know, I _know_ you wouldn’t either. Because at the end of the day, I know you’re trying, and I’m trying and we’re both just doing our best.” Tony could feel the words tugging at something within him, gently loosening the tension in his frame. He kept his gaze fixed downwards though, and idly noticed a little dinghy that had made the mistake of trying to cross under the bridge. It was now stuck right beneath their feet, its mast scraping against the stone. Tony would have laughed if he still thought he was capable (and wasn’t he feeling melodramatic today?)

Steve stepped close to Tony, ducking his head so it was right next to Tony’s. Tony knew this was probably risky, standing so close like this when he’d already been spotted. But the part of his brain that was focused on that was drowned out by the confusion of thoughts and emotions blurring through his head right now. Steve’s words were threatening to trail a blaze through his self-doubt, clearing his head of its misgivings and making room for a small bit of optimism, of hope.

“Because no matter what happens...” Steve’s trembling breath blew low over his ear, the words shaky as they played off his cheek. Tony swallowed, finding it much harder than he expected. He still couldn’t face Steve, afraid that what he’d find there would be his complete undoing. “I...I love you.”

Tony’s breath caught, his brain froze, his chest clenched. His entire body seemed to have been sent into a crash, but then why did it somehow feel like he was falling? Steve’s voice was in his ear again and he latched onto it, using it as a life raft before he drowned completely beneath this feeling pressing down on him, this wonder, this shock, this complete and utter euphoria that was flooding his insides and horrifyingly enough, springing tears to his eyes.

“You don’t have to say it back, that’s not why I...I just, it’s something I’ve been feeling and I wanted you to know.”

Tony nodded jerkily, some magical part of his brain realizing that Steve had just put himself way out there and would, like he said, be scared, be fucking terrified, because who wouldn’t be? and that he’d need some affirmation, that this was okay. And this was more than okay. And with that small movement, Tony suddenly saw that he _could_ do this. That that was his instinctive reaction, to reassure instead of to run away, well it spoke volumes. It was a small victory, microscopic really, but Tony was going to take it because right now, with Rhodey’s betrayal still tearing viciously at him, he’d take all he could fucking get.

He finally lifted his head to look at Steve, who’s blue eyes were shining bright, a slight sheen over them. He wore a smile, small, but one that nonetheless seemed to set his entire face aglow, and he was looking at Tony like he was the only thing he ever wanted to look at again.

Suddenly, all he could get was looking pretty fucking good.

“Thanks,” Tony said softly, ignoring the small part of his brain yelling that that was the worst, most clichéd response to those three words, because somehow, right now, it seemed to fit (especially since they were out in public and that was the only way Tony could express his total and complete gratitude without ending up on the front page of the Boston Globe). He cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times to make sure everything was good in the tearing-up department. “How would you feel about heading back to the city?” he asked.

Steve nodded without hesitation. “Sounds good.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll just text Bucky.”

Tony felt a pang of guilt. Bucky’s summer semester was starting on Monday so this was theoretically the last time Steve would see him for awhile. Not to mention the way they’d just walked out on Bruce’s big day. From what he’d heard, Bruce wasn’t even expecting any family to show.

“No, wait,” Tony said, pressing his hand over Steve’s to still Steve his fingers, already tapping out a message. “We should stay.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure? We don’t have to, I mean-“

“No, I want to,” Tony insisted. Which, okay was a little white lie, he didn’t really _want_ to. But he needed to. Steve considered him for a moment, eyes scanning his face, before he slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Okay then. How about we grab a cone from JP Licks before we hunt down Bruce? Because this weather might just be killing me.”

Tony laughed (apparently he was still capable, no matter how tiny it was) and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The stuff about the MIT Brass Rat (the class ring) is completely true and there's also a crap-ton more little trivia things about that tiny piece of jewelry (for example, the committee debates about whether to switch the traditional two men on the logo out for a man and woman). It's pretty crazy.
> 
> Also, that person who tried to sail under the bridge and got stuck? That may or may not have been based on a personal experience...


	6. Chapter 6

Steve was just finishing up his lunch when his phone rang. He glanced at it quickly before excusing himself from the table and heading outside, picking up the call as he wove around the tables scattered around the small company cafeteria. “Hey.”

“Soooo how’s the first day going?”

Steve glanced around, looking for the path back to the elevator. This place was way too huge. “Promise not to laugh?”

“Yeah, course not.”

“Well, they handed me this stack of papers, an info packet or something I guess, and I immediately dropped all of them. I tried to pick them up and I dropped it all again. Then, when I was following my boss on a tour, I tripped over nothing and nearly fell flat on my face, right in the middle of a roomful of people.” He paused, listening to the strange muffled sounds coming from the other end of the line. “...You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

“No, no! Of course not! Everyone gets a little nervous on their first day. How are the other guys?”

“Mmm, I mean, I haven’t really been here that long so it’s kind of quick to judge them.” He pushed through some doors and found himself in yet another long corridor of gleaming metal and glass. “But they’re all kind of...”

“Dicks?” Tony guessed.

“Yeah,” Steve exhaled.

“Artists, man...”

“Hey!”

“Oh sorry. So what time do you get off? Because I was thinking...” Tony seemed to have forgotten what exactly he was thinking because he never finished that sentence. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and peered at it, thinking maybe the line had been disconnected some time during his adventure around the building. He frowned when he saw nothing wrong and pressed it back to his face. “...Tony?”

“Uh, hey listen I have to go. Call me when you’re done.” And with that, he was gone.

Steve shook his head. “Why do people keep _doing_ that?” he muttered.

***

Tony pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up the call, not taking his eyes off the person standing in front of his desk.

“How did you get in here?” he asked harshly.

“I made an appointment,” Peggy replied, sliding into one of the chairs beside her. “I’m leaving for my posting tomorrow,” she continued, “and I...I wanted to make things right before I left.”

She dropped her gaze to her fingers, idly noting that she seemed to have picked up nervous fidgeting from Bruce. “I know I offended you and I-“

“I could give two shits about what you think of me,” Tony cut in. “Anything you say, somebody somewhere’s saying something ten times worse. So don’t go around thinking you’re anything special.”

Peggy opened her mouth to reply but once again, Tony spoke over her. “But you know what? You really hurt Steve, and that’s something I do give a shit about.”

“Just like how Rhodes hurt you?” she asked quietly, trying to swing the conversation back around to where she wanted it to be. Her next words were startled out of her as Tony abruptly stood up, sending his chair reeling across the floor and clanking into the glass wall behind him. She stared silently at him, eyes wide as every muscle in his face tensed up, his jaw grinding.

He smacked his hands down on the table, the dull slap echoing around the too-large room. “Get out,” he hissed, squeezing the words out between the tiny gaps in his teeth.

“I’m not leaving until you let me explain.” She stood up then too, her eyes at nearly the same level as Tony’s. For all he tried to act like a big man, he was surprisingly small.

“There’s nothing to explain. And even if there was, it would be none of your goddamn business.”

“Look, hate me all you want but believe me when I say that none of this was James’s idea.”

“Why the hell should I believe you about _anything_? You lied for _months_ , not only to me, but to one of your best friends!”

“And I was wrong to do so but that’s got nothing to do with the fact that James was _always_ on your side. He wanted to tell you guys everything from the beginning.”

“So why didn’t he? What, did you threaten him with some embarrassing college story? Did you hold a fucking _gun_ to his head?”

“He didn’t have anything to tell you because he didn’t know Steve’s name any more than you did! I just sent him the link and he sent it on to you and that was it! That was pretty much all he did, besides jump to your defense and talk about how this was a bad idea. And he was right.” Tony had dropped his chin to his chest, his arms bracketing his head as he rested his weight on the table. Peggy paused, his demeanor momentarily sending her thoughts skittering. She lowered her voice, realizing in the sudden silence how loud they had both gotten. “But I’m not going to say I wouldn’t do it again in a heartbeat. Not when it’s brought Steve so much happiness...brought both of you so much happiness.” 

Tony stayed hunched over, eyes glued to the smooth mahogany of his desktop. Peggy watched him for a moment, the top of his dark head dipping slightly up and down as he took heaving breaths. She sighed and turned to go, realizing that this was probably as far as she was going to get. Tony had probably stopped listening somewhere in the middle of her speech. She only hoped what he _had_ heard had been enough. She’d never meant for this, for her worries about her own friend to get in the way of someone else’s friendship. Truth be told, she hadn’t really stopped to think about Tony’s feelings at all. 

“For what it’s worth...” Peggy paused in the open doorway as Tony’s words reached her ears. She twisted her neck just in time to see Tony take a breath, his entire frame rising and falling with the depth of it, before he looked up and straight at her. “No matter what Steve says, I still think I’m going to screw this up somehow, so you’re probably right about that. But for what it’s worth, you’re wrong if you think I _want_ that to happen. You’re wrong if you thought that I would have screwed him over from the beginning. Because I would have lo-liked him the same, no matter how we started.” His shoulders jerked in a small shrug. “Just because he’s Steve.”

She dropped her gaze briefly to the carpet before snapping it back up. Without saying a word, Peggy turned back around and stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her with a quiet click.

***

Later that night, Steve lay curled on his side in the dark, watching the dim glow from the tablet flicker over Tony’s face as he worked on some design on or the other.

“Peggy came by,” Steve said.

“Oh?”

“I don’t see why that surprises you. She told me she’d been to see you too.” Tony hummed noncommittally. Steve sighed, giving it up for a lost cause. He tugged the blankets over his shoulder and rolled over onto his other side, deciding sleep was probably the best idea after the day he’d had.

He was worn out, physically and emotionally. The first day on the job hadn’t been at all what he’d been expecting and neither had been his discussion with Peggy. It was hard, for this to come at a time when she was moving halfway across the country and it pushed him into forgiving her perhaps a little quicker than he would normally have. But then again, he wasn’t really the type to hold grudges. It always just seemed to him like a huge expense of effort for something that helped no one and hurt everyone. He had a strong feeling, however, that Tony didn’t exactly see things the same way.

Steve smiled softly when he felt said man slide an arm over his own, a pair of lips pressing gently against the back of his neck.

“Done working already?” Steve asked, hushed words floating gently up into the dark.

“You were thinking too loudly,” Tony murmured into Steve’s hair. “Couldn’t focus.” He slipped his hand under Steve’s ratty old t-shirt, sliding it up so he could caress his stomach. “Figure if your mere presence is going to distract me, I might as well enjoy it.”

Steve smile grew as he turned under Tony’s arm, their faces falling close together between the pillows. Tony’s fingers, never able to keep still, immediately began dancing patterns over his back. Sometimes Steve wondered if the other man was actually using his skin as yet another drawing board for his calculations. More than once, the genius had wriggled abruptly out of Steve’s embrace only to disappear down to his lab for the rest of the night, a sudden idea igniting in his brain and firing up all his other muscles along with it.

Steve hated those moments. The bed somehow felt twice as large and his arms twice as empty right after. He inched forward now, closing the distance until their foreheads met.

“You know,” Tony started quietly into the silence, his fingers stuttering in their motion, “your friends are really messing with my flow here.” Steve huffed out a laugh, half in surprise. Talking about this had been the last thing he’d expected his boyfriend to do. He brought his hand up to stroke a thumb over Tony’s cheek and Tony sighed, eyes fluttering closed at Steve’s gentle ministrations. “I guess I should let my friends take some responsibility too,” he added offhandedly.

Steve’s chest tightened briefly at the expression on Tony’s face. Somehow, the blank look he wore now was more upsetting to see than the grief he’d shown by the river that day. Steve tilted his chin up and pressed a soft kiss to the other man’s lips, hoping to write something, _anything_ , onto his features. 

He couldn’t fix whatever had fractured between Tony and Rhodes, that was clearly something they had to work out for themselves. That didn’t mean it didn’t still tug at Steve. He’d never been the type to just sit idly by when the people he loved were in pain. What he _could_ do was try his best to make sure that right now, in this moment, Tony was happy. Because that’s all life was, he thought, as he continued to kiss Tony with quick nips of the lips and darts of the tongue - a series of moments lived one at a time. And it was his goal to make Tony happy for as many of them as he humanly could.

“If I’d known you were feeling this frisky, I would have put down my tablet down sooner,” Tony mumbled, the words getting half-swallowed between their mouths.

Steve responded by hooking a leg over Tony’s hip and swinging himself up so he straddled the smaller man. His pathetic little bed creaked ominously at the motion, causing both of them to freeze and stare at each other, eyes identically wide. After a moment, Steve shrugged and dropped his hands to either side of Tony’s head, leaning down to capture his lips once more. 

He could always buy another bed tomorrow.

***

The next few days dragged by for Tony in a blur of meetings and project deadlines (Obie seemed to be getting antsy about something) and the next time he blinked, it was Thursday, his sacred day of pizza and video games. The only problem was, Clint was nowhere to be found. Tony sighed and pulled out his phone, shooting off a text.

The reply came minutes later and Tony frowned at it. Clint never cancelled. Well, it was probably too late now to bother Steve. The man took the whole eight hours of sleep thing way too seriously. He stared at his phone for a moment, then making a (what he thought was very mature) snap decision, hit 2 on his speed dial.

***

Clint tossed his phone on the couch and anxiously went to answer the door. He had his suspicions about who would be on the other side and, upon pulling it open, found he had never been unhappier to be proven right.

“Ey broooo.” The mammoth on the other side was dressed in a hideous Adidas tracksuit, a large gold watch peeking out from under the sleeve and gaudy chains resting between the folds of the half-open jacket. He reeked of day-old sweat and cheap whiskey.

Clint wrinkled his nose and tried his best to look responsible.

“Hey man, what’s-“

“Bro, you no pay rent, you no live here, bro. Kapeez?”

“Yeah man, I get that, I totally get that.” Clint rubbed the back of his head. “The thing is, I’m having a little trouble. You’ll get your money, it might just be a little...late.”

“Nah bro, that no work. You already late, bro.”

“Okay fine, that’s true. So if I’m already late, what’s a few days more, amirite?”

The large man peered down at him, considering. “Bro, I geeve you two more days.” He stuck his gross, ring-adorned fingers in Clint’s face, as if to prove that he could indeed count that high. “ _Two_. After...” He ran his finger across his neck in the universal gesture for ‘we-gon’-fuck-you-up’.

“Right, got it, two days.” Clint nodded and shut the door. “Crazy landlords threatening to kill people over some stupid rent,” he muttered. He leant up against it and let his head fall back against the rotting grain. “I’m so fucked.”

***

Tony didn’t glance up as a body pressed down onto the couch next to him, a careful distance kept between them. He merely exited out of his game and went into multiplayer mode, picking up the second controller and handing it wordlessly over to the person beside him.

Rhodey nervously accepted the controller and scrolled through the characters, opting for Samus as Tony headed straight for Pikachu. He laughed in quiet relief at the sheer familiarity of the moment and leaned back into the cushions, the tension he’d been hoisting around the last few days easing just a little.

\--

A few rounds of beating each other with shells and explosives and a couple of beers later and the air between them no longer felt thick as jell-o. 

Tony tossed his controller onto the table in disgust. “Okay that hammer is totally cheating. We should turn off items and then see who kicks who’s ass.”

“Oh, stop whining,” Rhodey replied easily, taking a swig of his beer. “You could have got the hammer if you wanted. You just didn’t have the reflexes to get there first.”

“Excuse you? I chose to avoid it because I didn’t want to go for the cheap win.”

Rhodey shrugged. “Win’s a win.”

“Ugh, fine. But next time, no items. Then we’ll see who the real man is.”

Rhodey laughed, nodding in agreement. “Alright. Next time.” He dropped his own controller onto the cushion beside him.

A silence crept over the room - not the amiable, relaxed kind they’d been sharing for years but stretched tight, like a man perched on a ledge. Tony picked at the label on his beer bottle, the condensation rendering it to some kind of mulch. Little pieces tore off under his nail and he rolled them between his fingers, flicking them onto the floor.

“Listen, Tony...”

“It’s fine, Rhodey,” Tony broke in tiredly. “Let’s just forget about it.”

“No, it’s not fine. I should have stood my ground when Peggy started to shit all over you. I mean, she didn’t know any better, she didn’t-she _doesn’t_ know you. But I do. So I’m sorry. I was just...you were so _excited_ about this guy and I just really wanted it to happen because for _once_ , I wanted to see you really and truly happy. And I look at you now and I find myself hard-pressed to say I regret it, any of it.”

Tony blinked down at his bottle, noting absently that he’d somehow managed to tear the entire label off at some point during Rhodey’s speech. “You know,” he said, voice low and unconcerned (casual, always play it casual), “that’s what Peggy said too. About not regretting it. She said if she had to, she’d do it all over again, just the same.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. I definitely would have done things a little differently, if only so as not to give you the impression that I’m secretly gay and on the prowl.”

Tony snorted. “I still don’t believe you about Harrison Ford.”

“And I still think he’s old and gross so we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” Rhodey shot back. “Seriously though, I think things would have worked out just as well if we’d just introduced you two from the start. I mean, you guys probably would have gone through some other shit instead of romantic kisses in the rain-“

Tony shot up out of his slouch. “How do you know about that?!”

“Steve showed me a picture. It was pretty adorable. God, that man lights up like a newlywed when he talks about you.”

Tony spluttered, his face growing hot. “I don’t...hey, how come he never showed _me_ that picture?”

Rhodey shrugged. “Maybe he assumed Barnes sent it to you too.”

“Fucking Barnes,” Tony said resignedly, collapsing back against the sofa once more. “That guy hates me.”

“Really? It seemed like he had your back when we...” Rhodey let the rest of that thought fall, realizing as Tony did that they were taking the conversation back to places they just wanted to bury.

“Anyway, I really should get going.” He glanced at his watch as he pushed up off the couch. “Jesus, it’s late.”

“You shipping out again soon?” Tony asked, standing up too.

“No I...I’m going to be here for a little while actually.”

Tony tilted his head questioningly at Rhodey. “Oh?”

“Yeah, there’s some stuff going on with the SI contracts that...” He trailed off, sparking Tony’s curiosity even more. “Okay, I know this is the worst possible time to ask this of you, but I’m going to just need you to trust me for awhile.”

Tony gaped at him. “Seriously? Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

“Tony...I know, I’m sorry alright? But there are things going on that I can’t tell you about yet and I need you to just...I need you to trust that I’m looking out for you.”

Tony folded his arms across his chest and just continued to stare at him, unimpressed. “Come on Tony, you know I can’t tell you about stuff without getting in a crap-ton of trouble. And right now, the risks don’t outweigh the rewards. If that changes, I’ll fill you in, alright? Please, just let it be.”

After a moment, Tony sighed, letting his arms fall back to his sides. He supposed anything Rhodey had done, he thought he’d been doing in Tony’s best interests. Apparently sometimes they just didn’t agree on what that was. But Rhodey was right about one thing here - telling Tony anything would certainly put him at risk of losing his job, or worse. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay! Just...just don’t make me regret it. I think I’ve filled my quota of regret for this lifetime twice over already.”

Rhodey rested his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Look, I-“

“Oh no,” Tony interrupted, swiftly swinging his arms up between Rhodey’s and knocking them down. “That’s more than enough emotional moments this week, thanks. Let’s just call this a mildly successful bro night and be on our way.”

Rhodey laughed. “Okay, wait, one last thing.”

Tony heaved another sigh, letting his eyes roll up to focus on the ceiling. “What?”

“Thanks.” Tony’s focus dropped back down to his best friend. “For calling me over. And for hearing me out. I-“

Tony clapped a hand over his mouth. “Aaaaand your time’s up! That was beautiful, alright, time to go!”

Rhodey rolled his eyes but turned obediently towards the door, shoving his hands into his pocket (probably to stop himself going full ‘90s sitcom and trying to hug him, though maybe Tony wouldn’t have minded that much). “Bye, Tony,” he called over his shoulder.

“Bye snookie-bear!” The obnoxious words never felt sweeter on his tongue, especially when a small laugh drifted over from the elevator. Tony watched his best friend disappear behind the closing doors, a small smile creeping over his face. Mildly successful bro night indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Natasha crossed her arms and raised one perfect eyebrow. Cutie Coulson stood next to her, dressed in an immaculate suit and hands clasped together in front of him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Barton. We were wondering if you had a moment to speak with us.”

Clint just gaped at them. Natasha tapped her finger on her elbow, her face saying ‘we know you have a moment because we know you don’t have a job, you loser.’ Or maybe Clint was just projecting. Either way, the woman’s silence was _loud_.

Clint cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess so.” He took a step back and pulled the door open wider to let them through. Why, he had no idea. It’s not like they would be any more comfortable in here than they were in the hallway. 

Natasha strode in and immediately began circling the small room, looking far too much like a newly adopted cat exploring its surroundings. Coulson, however, stopped just over the threshold, moving far enough in that Clint could close the door behind him. Clint saw his eyes cast a quick sweep over the place.

“I, uh, I’m doing some redecorating,” Clint said awkwardly.

Unsurprisingly, they both ignored this statement.

“I’m going to cut to the chase here, Mr. Barton. You’re well aware that we’ve been closely monitoring all of Mr. Stark’s associates. As such, we are well-acquainted with your situation and its surrounding circumstances and bearing our knowledge of your past, we’ve decide to make you an offer of employment.”

Clint blinked. “Uh, what?” _Barton, you dummy, that’s not how you respond to someone who wants to give you a job._

Once again, Coulson elected to ignore him. The man had the art of selective hearing down pat. “Normally we don’t recruit this old--“

“Hey!” 

“--but we believe your unique circumstances make you a viable exception.”

Clint squinted at him. “An exception for what, exactly?” he asked slowly.

“For super-secret spywork, duh.” Clint jumped. He’d completely forgotten Natasha was even in the room, which was ridiculous because the creaky floorboards usually announced the presence of even the smallest of rats. 

Natasha slinked around to stand next to Coulson. The man’s eyebrows were angled down the slightest bit in what Clint had quickly learned was his version of a thoroughly disapproving frown.

“Not quite, but as you know, we are in the business of security. We won’t be able to tell you much more until we know you’re interested.”

“How am I supposed to know if I’m interested if I don’t know what the job is?”

Coulson shrugged the tiniest of shrugs, his shoulders lifting no more than a tenth of an inch.

Clint sighed. “Okay,” he tried. “How about this? What about my current situation made you want to hire me? Recently fired pizza delivery guy isn’t usually at the top of anyone’s hiring list.”

Coulson darted a look at Natasha and Clint followed it to find the redhead’s steady gaze locked on Clint.

“Tell me, Barton. Why were you late to work?”

“Well, I guess I went a little overboard at Tony’s party. I mean, you were there, you-“

“No, besides that. Before, why would you sometimes show up late even though you left your apartment at the same time every day?”

“Holy _crap_ , you guys are creepy.” Natasha just continued to stare at him, unimpressed. Clint scratched his head, thinking back. “Okay, well I guess the first time, there was that dog. That was dumb, he probably would have been fine. Or someone else would have picked him up, probably someone with more sense than to feed him pizza.”

Natasha was tapping her boot against the floor now, and while it was reassuring to find that she wasn’t some strange specter and did in fact, make noise, it probably didn’t bode well for his short-term wellbeing so he quickly moved on, ticking incidents off with his fingers. “Let’s see. Then there was that woman in the alley, god those guys were total assholes. Those kids harassing that old Chinese dude...and then, oh man, then there was that little old lady harassing those kids. _That_ was fun.”

Natasha seemed to sense that he was about to start rambling again. “So do you get it?” she asked, cutting him off.

Clint frowned, still utterly confused. “So...you want to hire me because I can’t mind my own business?” He gestured vaguely at his empty apartment. “Doesn’t this just sort of speak to how much I can’t keep my _own_ shit together?” _Dammit Barton, why are you trying to convince them_ not _to hire you?_

Natasha threw up her hands, muttering something under her breath that Clint was sure was both not in English and also not very flattering.

“Look, Barton,” Coulson said, stepping forward. “We’re not here to convince you of anything. You either want to work for us or you don’t. I will say this much - it sure as hell pays more than recently fired pizza delivery guy.” He glanced at his watch. “We have to get moving now but I’ll be in touch.” Coulson eyes once again roamed over the empty apartment and Clint couldn’t help but see it through the agent’s eyes - the scattered boxes, the open suitcase with clothes spilling out onto the floor, the mould on the walls. Coulson’s gaze settled back on Clint. 

“Just think about it.”

***

Tony squinted at his watch, wondering if somehow it had taken on a life of it’s own and switched timezones. Because here it was, 10.30pm on a Thursday night, and once again Clint Barton was nowhere to be found.

He sighed and slithered sideways on the couch, making sure to maintain a tight grip on his beer as he stretched his fingers out towards his discarded phone. The day had been long and full of incompetent people and he’d decided to kick off the drinking as soon as he got home, stopping long enough only to shed his tie, toe off his shoes, and dump everything out of his pockets so that he could comfortably flop onto the cushions.

He tapped his fingers against the cold bottle, drops of condensation soaking into his pants as he waited impatiently for the call to connect (god, telecomm. companies were _completely_ incompetent). After a moment, a series of tones sounded in his ear.

_The number you have dialed is no longer in service._

Tony frowned, his eyebrows drawing a thick black line across his forehead as he stared at the useless phone. He chugged down the rest of his beer and thunked the bottle decisively onto the coffee table. Enough sitting around; it was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Jarvis,” he called as the elevator carried him down towards his massive garage. “I need you to locate Clint for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony leaned back against the metal wall as Jarvis did his thing, idly watching the numbers decrease rapidly. Maybe he should put some muzak in the elevator. It wouldn’t take long to whip together an algorithm that muzakified his entire classic rock collection. But then again, that probably wouldn’t translate too well. Perhaps some of Steve's music then--

“Mr. Barton has been located.” Jarvis’s voice broke into his musings just as the elevator doors slid open.

“Great.” Tony strode forward, snagging a pair of keys along the way. “Send the co-ordinates to the Roadster.” He paused, peering thoughtfully at the array of keys hanging in front of him. “Actually, wait. What’s his approximate location?”

“Bedford-Stuyvesant, sir.”

“Okay, scratch that. Send the co-ordinates to my phone instead. No way in hell am I driving a Tesla to Brooklyn.”

“A wise decision, sir, considering your current blood alcohol level and the events that transpired in your last excursion to that side of the city.”

“Hey, hey, hey! We said we weren’t going to talk about that anymore! Are you _trying_ to get updated?”

“My apologies. The incident has been wiped from my memory. I am positive the residents of Brooklyn will greet you with open arms and the most spectacular of parades.”

Tony rolled his eyes as he pushed through the door that would take him up to street level. “Always there with the snark, huh? I guess that’s what I get for modeling your personality after Jarvis’s. Actually you’re probably more like the freak child of Jarvis and I. Ugh, _ugh_ , I don’t know why I ever said that, now there are terrible images, horrendous, traumatizing images, going on in my head and wherever Clint is better have a lot of booze because this is going to need to be completely erased and...”

Tony trailed off as he realized he’d made it out onto the sidewalk and was now babbling to absolutely no one instead of just to an artificial intelligence that he had created from scratch. The few pedestrians out on the street were pushing past him, far too used to strange men mumbling to themselves. He shook his head, already regretting sending Happy home for the night. At least it wasn’t raining. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and peered at the address Jarvis had uploaded. The street name was unfamiliar. Despite living his whole life in New York City, Tony avoided Brooklyn like the plague. Somehow the recent gentrification had _lessened_ his desire to cross the bridge. Tony realized with a jolt that this was probably where Clint lived and was once again struck by how little he actually knew the other man.

He stepped up to the curb and stuck his hand out for a cab. Well, no time like the present to fix that.

***

Clint stared miserably down at the plastic cup in his hand, now completely empty. Just as he was wondering whether it was worth trying to lick the last drops of curry out, a knock sounded on his door. He barely had time to react before it came again, this time unceasing and growing more insistent as each second passed. Clint bit his lip. The goons had no reason to be harassing him again, he’d given them their blood money. Or rent money. Whatever, same thing.

Which meant it was probably Coulson and Natasha back again. He set the cup on the floor beside him and stood up in one fluid motion, his mind racing. It _had_ been three days but he still hadn’t made his decision.

And upon pulling open the door, he found he needn’t have worried.

“ _Tony?_ ”

“Nice to see you too, Barton.” Tony stretched his neck, trying to peer around Clint’s head and Clint instinctively stepped forward, pulling the doorknob flush against his back so that the small glimpse into the apartment the open door left was mostly hidden.

“What...what are you doing here?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s Thursday. And since you seemed to have stopped coming to me, I decided to come to you.”

Clint blinked. He’d completely lost track of the days. “Oh.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Why didn’t you just call?”

Tony waved his phone around. “I did. Your phone’s not in service anymore.” Clint winced. He hadn’t been able to pay that bill either but he didn’t think they’d shut it off so soon. “Can I come in?”

“Uh I...” Tony didn’t wait for his response, leaning his weight against the door to push it open. The doorknob fell out of Clint’s hand and he sighed in resignation as Tony slid past him.

“Like what you’ve done with the place.”

Clint paused to roll his eyes at Tony’s back before stepping forward and into the middle of the room. “Welcome to my humble abode. Pull up some floor, if you’d like.”

To Clint’s utter surprise, Tony crossed one ankle over the other, bent his knees, and dropped to the ground, ending up cross-legged on the uneven wooden floor. Clint really hoped he hadn’t accidentally sat on any splinters.

“Soooo are you moving in or out?”

Clint blinked, still trying to catch up to the fact that _Tony Stark_ was sitting on the floor of his rundown old apartment in Bed-Stuy and somehow looking completely comfortable doing it. “Uh, neither. I had to...I was going to...” Tony just raised an eyebrow. Oh, screw this. “I got fired.”

Avoiding Tony’s eye, Clint took the couple of steps over to where Tony was sitting and joined him, folding his legs underneath him to mirror the other man’s position. The whole thing felt completely surreal, felt like they were about to meditate or possibly commune with the dead.

“I got fired and I couldn’t pay my rent so I thought I was going to have to move out. But I found someone on Craigslist who was actually willing to buy most of my crap and so here I am. Although it’s all going to be pretty meaningless if I can’t find a way to pay _next_ month’s rent.”

He finally met Tony’s gaze, the other man’s expression unreadable. “When?”

“When did I get fired?” Tony nodded. “A couple of weeks ago.” Clint hesitated. He didn’t even know why he’d told Tony this much. The guy had a way of taking on the troubles of everyone around him, whether it was actually his fault or not. Clint stared at his lap, absently noting the tear in the knee of his jeans. Good thing it wasn’t winter. He looked up to find Tony staring back at him with uncharacteristic patience, waiting for more. “The morning after your birthday party, actually.”

Tony didn’t respond. Clint thought he saw something flash over his face but all these Thursdays together and he still couldn’t figure out the cryptic alien language Tony’s book was written in. If only Google Translate worked with Starkisms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question broke quietly into the long silence.

Clint shrugged. “What would have been the point?”

“I could have helped you. I can still help you. Stark Industries always needs--“

“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t really see myself working at your gigantic company.”

“Okay, fair enough. Corporate life sucks ass. But I could lend you some money, if you want.“

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll figure it out.”

“You sure? I can--“

“Yeah, Tony, I’m sure.” 

“...okay then.”

An awkward silence took over the room. “So how’re things with Steve?” Clint asked finally. Thankfully Tony took to the change of subject easily.

“Pretty good. The drama seems to have died down a little, thank god.” Tony uncrossed his legs and pulled them up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees and caught one wrist with the other hand to hold them in place. “But we also haven’t really had a chance to see each other much the last few days. SI has kept me crazy busy and the East Village is kind of a pain in the ass.”

Clint snorted. “You’re just a snob about your city neighborhoods. I’m surprised you even made it all the way out here.”

“Well, I have to admit, I had a little Dutch courage to help me out. Started the beer drinking without you, sorry man.”

Clint frowned slightly. “Did you drive here?” he asked, hoping the question came off as casual rather than accusatory.

“Nah, cabbed it.” 

Clint felt his features relax and stretched his hands out behind him to support his weight as he leaned back. “So you’ll cab it all the way out here but you won’t take the subway a couple of stops to get laid?”

“Hey, it’s not just a couple of stops! And the New York subway is gross. It’s all smelly and old and has way too many people on it at once, none of whom are tall, breathtakingly gorgeous blond men who read amazing works of science fiction.”

“You do know that Orson Scott Card hates gay people, right?”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “The man could kill puppies on a daily basis for all I care. Still doesn’t change the fact that Ender’s Game is a work of art.”

“You are a very strange person.”

Tony clapped his hand to his chest, aghast. “ _I’m_ strange? You wanted to knock me out to impress my head of security! And okay, I can buy into the whole stoic, mysterious thing but seriously the man is _balding_. That speaks to some terrible genes right there. Is that what you want for your children?”

“Who the hell said anything about children? I was just thinking of getting a handful of that ass, maybe a blowjob or two.”

“Ugh, gross. You are gross. Please don’t ever talk to me about Coulson and blowjobs again.”

Clint felt the tension dissipate slightly as they bantered back and forth. It was nice to know that they still got along without the distraction of booze, pizza or video games. Still, there was an undercurrent of something between them that hadn’t been there before, an elephant that had been dragged into the room when Tony had come out here and thrown a spotlight on everything that made them from different worlds.

At least Clint still had electricity. It would have been even more humiliating if Tony had come by and--

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Clint muttered as their eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. He pushed to his feet and shuffled off towards his suitcase, trying to avoid stepping on one of the few belongings he’d managed to hang on to. His path lit up suddenly, and he looked back over his shoulder to see Tony sitting with his cellphone out, held up high above his head to cast light in Clint’s direction.

“Seriously, Clint, let me help you. Just a couple thousand, I won’t even miss it.”

Clint grit his teeth as he dropped to his knees in front of the suitcase. “That’s exactly why you don’t understand that I can’t take your help.” He stuck his hand in and rummaged around until his fingers hit what he was looking for. 

“No, I don’t understand,” Tony snapped back as Clint pulled the candle out, sending another couple of shirts tumbling our of the suitcase and onto the grimy floor. Clint pulled his zippo out of his pocket and lit the candle, drippIng wax onto the floor so he could set it in place. “I know you’ve got your pride and all but dude, priorities,” Tony continued, killing the light on his cellphone as the firelight took over. “You’re eating crappy ramen and you’re sitting around in candlelight and that’s something you should be doing only if you’re hoping to get laid at the end of the night. Actually there is never a good time to be eating instant ramen. One time I--”

Clint rocked back onto his heels, dropped his head to his hands and released a scream, a long guttural sound that tore at his throat in the most satisfying way. Tony abruptly clamped his mouth shut.

Clint rubbed his hands roughly over the skin of his face, pushing his features up and down, up and down. Finally, with one last drag of his fingers down his cheeks, he dropped his hands to his side. He rotated slowly in his crouch, Tony’s dirty black sneakers catching his gaze. Clint stared at the beat-up Chucks, the worn soles and the laces torn at the ends, aglets long lost to the streets of New York. Tony seemed to wear those shoes a lot. Or maybe he just put them on when he knew he was going to see Clint, a vain attempt to make the pizza boy feel more at home in a billionaire’s penthouse.

Clint took a deep breath and finally looked up at Tony. The other man was watching him silently, face as closed off as Clint had ever seen it. When Clint’s eyes met his, he dropped his gaze to the very shoes Clint had been fixated on. God he looked young, with his jeans and t-shirt and knees pulled up to his chest.

Clint licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Look, Tony, I appreciate the offer,” he said. Tony scoffed, the quiet sound echoing in the empty room. Clint squeezed his lips together. “Really, I do. But for the last time, I’m not going to take any money from you.”

Tony nodded briskly. He unfolded his small frame and stood, still studiously avoiding Clint’s eyes. “Right. Got it. Sorry. I...uh...I’ll just be going then.”

“Oh.” Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, I guess...” Clint trailed off as he stood too, trying to brush the dust off his hands onto his jeans only to find they came away even dustier than before. 

Clint felt a twinge of guilt then. Tony must have been feeling lonely if he came all the way out to Bed-Stuy. He’d come looking for a friend and had instead got a fight. There was nothing really to be done for it, though. All they’d be doing if he stayed would be sitting in the feeble candlelight. And like Tony had said, there was really only one reason to be doing that.

Tony paused in the doorway, the candlelight reflecting off his face as he surveyed the barren room one last time. The flickering light somehow seemed to burn through Tony’s mask better than anything else or maybe the semi-darkness gave him false confidence, some comfort in the idea that maybe no one could actually make out his features. Either way, his expression seemed softer than before, his eyes wide in his face and once again drawing Clint’s attention to just how young he really was. “I...” Clint watched him, grossly fascinated in being able to actually see some of the inner war Tony seemed to be fighting. “See you around, then,” Tony settled on, before stepping out of the apartment and pulling the door shut behind him.

***

Steve fumbled for his phone he knew was sitting somewhere on his dresser. Somehow managing to grab it without knocking anything else off, he lit it up to see that it was currently 2:41am. He groaned and pushed out of bed, stuffing his feet into his slippers as he grabbed his robe. Muffling a yawn with one hand, he shuffled slowly towards the door and worked his way through the multitude of locks.

“ _Tony?_ ” he blurted out once he wrenched the door open. And yup, that was his boyfriend, bleary eyes, mussed hair and all. Weird. Steve was the one who had been asleep and yet here was Tony looking like someone had flipped his mattress over while he was still on it.

Tony snorted. “I’m feeling a little sense of déjà vu right now.”

Steve just stared at him, half-asleep and fully confused.

Tony shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. It’s late. I shouldn’t have...I’ll be going now.” He turned to leave and Steve shot out a hand and clasped his bicep. Tony looked down at his arm and back up at Steve.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Tony swallowed slightly and nodded, letting Steve pull him gently inside. Steve shut the door and flipped a switch, filling the room with dim light. He went over to the small dresser by his bed and pulled a hoodie out of the bottom drawer.

“Aren’t we going to wake Bruce?” Tony whispered. He hadn’t moved from his spot near the door.

“Nah, he sleeps like a rock.” Steve returned to Tony’s side and handed him the sweatshirt. Tony accepted it, looking at Steve askance.

“It’s cold. And you’re wearing a t-shirt.” Tony just looked at Steve, unimpressed. “Oh, just put it on. And go sit down, I gotta pee.” He pushed Tony towards the bed and hurried off to the bathroom.

He came out to find Tony sitting on the end of the bed and, surprisingly, wearing the sweatshirt he had given him.

Steve paused in the doorway of the bathroom. The hoodie was gigantic on Tony and the ‘BU’ sat far too low, closer to his stomach than his chest. Tony had tucked both hands into the pocket and was pushing his arms up to bunch the material under his nose. Steve’s heart squeezed at the sight. 

The floorboard creaked as Steve stepped forward and Tony abruptly let his hands fall, the hoodie falling back into place. Steve could see a mildly sheepish expression on his face as he closed the distance between them.

“It smells like you,” Tony mumbled.

Steve lips quirked, the feelings of affection bubbling up inside him and needing some way to escape. “You can keep it.” He sat down next to Tony, ignoring the complaints from his mattress. “So what’s going on?”

Tony shrugged. “You know, was just in the area. Thought I’d come say hello.”

“Oookay.”

Tony leaned forward suddenly and kissed Steve, pulling one hand out of the sweatshirt to rest on Steve’s cheek. Steve returned the kiss, obligingly opening his mouth when he felt Tony’s tongue push at his lips.

Tony had been drinking. Steve hadn’t realized at first, the flavor of whiskey one he wasn’t familiar enough with to immediately recognize, especially secondhand. And he hadn’t seen it in Tony’s demeanor either, that was something that tugged at him. He broke away and Tony dropped his hand.

“What?”

“I...” Maybe he’d only had a little, just a nightcap. He definitely didn’t seem drunk, though he did seem a little off. “It’s late. And I have to work in the morning...”

“Oh, right.” Tony stood up and once again, Steve stopped him, this time with a hand on the wrist to tug him back down.

“I just meant, we should probably go to sleep. You can stay, right? I mean, I’m up pretty early so you can still make any morning meetings you have.”

Tony stared at him and Steve stared back, looking for signs that Tony was indeed more intoxicated than he let on. Whatever it was, something was definitely off about him. Finally, Tony shoved a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his head. “No. I mean, no I don’t have any morning meetings, yeah, let’s sleep.”

Steve smiled, standing to shuck his robe and slippers and climbing into bed as Tony stripped down to his boxers. Steve smacked his forehead once Tony slid in beside him. “I forgot about the light.” 

“You know, I can rewire that for you so you have a switch right by your bed,” Tony said as Steve pushed the blankets down to get back up again. “You don’t have to stumble around like a blind person every night.” 

“Thanks for the offer but I don’t think the landlord would be too happy with you ripping into the walls, even if you are improving the place.”

His words were met with a ringing silence. And with Tony, that was never a good sign. Steve paused, rolling back onto his side to find the other man staring up at the ceiling, his profile giving nothing away.

“Tony?” Steve said quietly, gently, a million different questions wrapped up neatly into two syllables.

Tony’s mouth stayed shut, his fingers tracing small paths over his abdomen, the motions weighted and deliberate. Steve, thinking it looked far too much like Tony was trying to comfort himself, stretched out his own hand and tangled his fingers with Tony’s to still the motion. He pulled Tony’s hand towards him and kissed the other man’s fingers, pressing his lips gently against the clever, nimble instruments that helped Tony churn out brilliant inventions everyday, before returning both their hands to Tony’s chest and letting them rest there entwined. Tony turned his head to face Steve, bringing his cheek to the pillow. 

“What can I do, Steve?”

There was a beat of silence. “What?”

“What can I give you? You won’t let me get you a nicer place, you won’t even let me fix the one you already have. So what can I give you?”

“I don’t, Tony, I didn’t ask you to give me anything.”

“No of course you didn’t, you would never ask. You never ask for anything. You just give.”

Steve released Tony’s hand and pushed up into a seated position, resting his back against the wall. “Tony, what the hell happened today?”

“Nothing happened! I just...” Tony trailed off. “Forget it. Let’s just go to sleep.” He rolled onto his side, turning away from Steve.

Steve stared at his back, utterly flummoxed. Giving it up for a lost cause, he clambered out of bed and went to turn off the light.

Steve was just beginning to drift back into sleep when Tony’s words sounded out into the dark, the hushed tones bringing him back from the precipice of unconsciousness.

“I just, you know, for once, _I_ want to be the one giving instead of always taking.”

One day, Steve was going to get a confession out of Tony that wasn’t whispered into the pitch-black dark but today was not that day. Which was rather unfortunate, since Steve’s sleep-addled brain was having trouble supplying him with the comforting words and eloquent speeches that normally just fell from his lips. There were so many thoughts that statement stirred up in Steve but he couldn’t fathom a single one.

So instead he wrapped an arm around Tony and resolved never again to complain when Tony insisted on paying for dinner. He dropped a kiss on the other man’s shoulder, and tightened his hold, hoping that even if he couldn’t find the words right now, he could still say all he needed to say.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long day. Steve couldn’t wait to just get home, collapse into bed, and never come out again. 

The final lock to his door gave a satisfying click and he turned the doorknob with a soft sigh. “Hey,” he said as he stepped in, dropping his keys on the rickety card table they’d set up by their sad excuse for a kitchen.

He was answered by a loud thunk and some muffled swearing. Bruce’s head reappeared from inside the oven as he straightened up, one hand rubbing viciously at the back of his head. He turned and leveled a glare at Steve, who was too busy relieving himself of messenger bag, shoes, and overstuffed wallet to take much notice. “Give a guy some warning, why don’t you?”

Steve shot a cursory glance at Bruce as he shuffled over to his dresser, fingers working at his buttons along the way. “My bad,” he responded, shrugging. “What are you doing anyway?”

He heard Bruce heave a deep sigh as he tugged his shirt off and threaded it neatly onto a hanger. “Trying to figure out why the hell this godforsaken oven isn’t working,” Bruce answered. Steve started undoing his belt. It was way too warm to be wearing any kind of pants, let alone his thick dress khakis. “Why are you here?”

“I...live here? Remember me?” He looked up from undressing long enough to flash Bruce a little wave over his shoulder. “Hey, I’m Steve.”

“Ha ha. No, I thought you’d be with Tony.”

“What?” Steve replied absently as he frowned down at his drawer of t-shirts. He pulled the top one off and slammed the drawer shut. He really needed to go shopping.

“I figured you’d refuse to leave his side, what with the accident and all...“

Steve froze, his arms threaded through the sleeves of his t-shirt. He spun around to face Bruce. “ _What?_ ”

Bruce’s eyebrows were stretching up towards his hairline. “You didn’t hear?” Steve shook his head slowly, in a daze. “It’s all over the news,” Bruce added. He tapped briefly at his laptop, which had been lying open on the counter, and spun it around to face Steve.

Steve yanked the shirt over his head as he strode over, crossing the tiny room in two quick steps. He bent over the grubby linoleum surface to look at the screen and inhaled sharply.

_**Billionaire Tony Stark injured in car accident** _

He skimmed over the article quickly, looking for any clues that Tony was okay, that Tony was _alive_ , but growled in frustration when he found no confirmation. “Do you know which hospital he’s at?” he asked, looking up at Bruce. Bruce pulled the laptop back towards him and after a moment, answered, “Mount Sinai.”

“Thanks. My phone, where’s my phone? Where the hell is my phone?!”

“Steve...Steve he’s going to be fine. It was just a small accident.”

“Yeah, says the news and they’re always one hundred percent accurate about everything,” Steve snapped back.

Bruce fell silent. Steve didn’t even have time to feel guilty. He just grabbed his phone from where he found it tangled in the blankets, shoved his feet into his sneakers, and snatched up his keys and wallet from the table. “Thanks, Bruce,” he did remember to call over his shoulder just before he slammed the door shut behind him.

***

Steve pulled out his phone as he galloped up the steps out of the subway, deftly maneuvering through the crowds of commuters making their way home. Quickening his steps, he hit the key for Tony’s speed-dial and pressed the phone to his ear, panting. 

“Come on, come on,” he mumbled as the ringing continued unanswered. He huffed impatiently when it clicked over to Tony’s familiar voicemail message and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

The sun was just disappearing over the horizon, darts of orange light peeking through the gaps between tall nondescript buildings. Outside the hospital, a small crowd of journalists had gathered, news vans clogging up the streets. Steve blew past them and wrenched open the doors. He hurried over to the closest nurses’ desk, dodging between clumps of people along the way.

“I’m looking for Tony Stark,” he said breathlessly, clapping his hands down on the white countertop.

The nurse behind the desk frowned at him. “For the thousandth time, we have a no-press policy. Unless you’re secretly bleeding or otherwise grievously injured, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“No, I’m not...” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not from the news. I’m his...he’s my...” The nurse just raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. “He’s a close friend of mine,” Steve finished lamely.

“Mmhmm, and Michelle Obama’s my long-lost sister.” She folded her arms over her chest, her face skeptical.

“No, really, he...we’re...” Steve twirled his arm around vaguely. “Look, can you at least just tell me how he is?”

The nurse’s expression remained hard. “I’m sorry sir, we cannot divulge that information to anyone but family. And this,” she waved her arm, mimicking Steve’s actions from before, “doesn’t count as family. Now I’m going to have to once again ask you to leave, unless you’d like me to call security.”

Steve sighed and rubbed both hands over his face. “Fine, fine, I’m going.” He shoved his hands through his hair and spun on his heel.

It had grown dark outside, leaving Steve squinting at the bright light coming off his phone as he stood in front of the entrance to the hospital. Tony’s phone had once again been unreachable and Steve was really starting to panic now. Tony hated being away from any of his tech. Physical distance did not stop his rambling mouth when he had a willing audience, which he usually found in Steve. Pepper had finally sent Steve Tony’s schedule and requested he didn’t reply to any of Tony’s messages during ‘vital company time’. 

Pepper! She probably had details on Tony’s situation. Steve quickly dialed her number, crossing his fingers. Thankfully, she answered after two short rings.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” she said before Steve even had a chance to say anything. “Well, a little banged-up but mostly fine.”

“Oh thank god,” Steve exhaled, the words coming out in a burst of air as he released most of the tension he’d been building in the last half-hour. “Can I see him?”

“Yes, we’re at--“

“Mount Sinai, I know. What floor?”

As Pepper directed him to Tony’s room, Steve pushed back into the hospital and went straight for the elevators, hurrying past the nurses’ desk. Fortunately, the nurse he’d spoken to before seemed to have disappeared.

The elevator doors opened up onto a quiet hallway, the walls painted the typical bland industrial white. Steve had grown all too familiar with the color his senior year of high school, back when he’d spent almost everyday at his mother’s bedside, prayers and curses falling interchangeably from his lips.

He heard Tony before he saw him and the familiar voice drifting over pressed down the last of his worry.

“God, Pepper, will you stop fussing? There’s only so many times a pillow can be fluffed before it’s not a pillow anymore.”

“You know what, Tony? You’re just going to have to deal with my fussing because I was--“

“Steve!” Tony quickly interjected as Steve came around the doorframe, probably aiming to cut Pepper off before she could build up to a good long rant.

Pepper’s head darted up at Tony’s exclamation. “Oh, hey! You got here quick!”

“Yeah, I was...I was here but the nurse wouldn’t tell me where he was or _how_ he was and I...” Steve swallowed, frozen in the doorway as he stared at the man propped up in the bed in the middle of the room.

God, Tony looked horrible. A little banged-up was the understatement of the century. Deep red bruises covered half his face, the swelling distorting his features slightly, and there was a large white bandage wrapped around his head. His left arm was all caught up in a sling while an IV ran into his right, administering some clear fluid.

Tony cleared his throat after a moment. “See something you like?” he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Pepper whacked his good arm while Steve’s eyes widened. “Hey, injured person here! You’re not allowed to hit me!” Tony cried, waving his injured arm. “Oh, ouch.” He quickly dropped his arm back to his chest.

“Behave,” Pepper said, rising from the chair beside his bed. “I’m going to go make a few phone calls.” She patted Steve’s arm reassuringly as she passed, shooting him a small smile. Steve, failing miserably to smile back, stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. They stared at each other silently.

“Hi,” Tony said finally, lifting his hand in small wave.

Steve abruptly rushed forward, suddenly needing to touch Tony, to feel for himself that his heart was still beating. He forced himself to stop at Tony’s bedside, not wanting to injure the other man anymore. Instead he leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips, carefully resting his hand on the clear side of his face.

Tony, it seemed, had other ideas. Steve quickly felt himself tugged forward as Tony wrapped an arm around his neck and deepened the kiss. They broke apart after a few seconds and Tony clutched briefly at his jaw, wincing slightly. “Just like our first kiss,” he said, grinning wryly at Steve. “I think I’m starting to like it.”

Steve frowned. “That’s not funny,” he said as he took a step back to sink into the visitor’s chair.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing all the way over there? There’s plenty of room on here,” Tony said, patting the mattress. “Besides, the 38-degree angle of this bed is optimal for cuddling, don’t you know?”

Steve felt his lips tug up a little at that. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. He swept his hand down his body, gesturing his injuries. “As you can see, all the spots you can hurt me are on my left side, and thus, easily avoidable as long as you’re on my right side. Come on, I know you’re dying to, it’ll be fine.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony. “Okay but only if you actually say something if you’re feeling any pain instead of lying through your teeth,” he said as he moved back towards the bed.

Tony gasped, mock-outrage taking over his features. “Moi? I don’t lie! Especially about pain! Why would I do that, I love whining!”

Steve squinted down at Tony as he settled onto the bed beside him, carefully arranging the IV tube around them. “How much medication are you on right now?”

Tony shrugged and wriggled closer, dropping his head onto Steve’s chest. “The perfect amount,” he replied, tiredness already beginning to seep into his words.

Steve snorted. He dropped a kiss on the top of Tony’s head, his fingers stroking softly through the dark hair beneath the bandage.

“‘Sides,” Tony continued sleepily, the words almost disappearing into the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt, “this is way better than any medication anyway.”

Steve smiled softly and closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up on him again now that the adrenaline had drained away. God, he’d been so scared, terrified out of his mind really, that Tony had...that he wouldn’t...

He didn’t know what he would have done if Pepper hadn’t picked up the phone. Snuck in and searched every room, probably. And what if Bruce hadn’t been there? Steve would have still been sitting at home, completely unaware that the love of his life was lying in a hospital halfway across the city, battered and doped up on painkillers.

He supposed Pepper might have called him eventually, once the excitement had died down a bit. But she did, after all, have to think about the public image of the company and that was tied all too tightly to Tony’s state of wellbeing. Steve probably ranked pretty low on her list of people to call. 

He tilted his head slightly, deeply inhaling Tony’s familiar scent, hidden beneath the sterile, medicated smell of the room, and just listened to Tony’s quiet breathing, evened out in sleep. As much as Steve hated to think it, Tony being who he was put him in far more danger than the average person. Steve wasn’t naive, he knew there were people who would happily put a price on Tony’s head. And if anything were to happen... it made him sick to think that he would have to find out about it on the evening news.

Sure, he understood that Tony had responsibilities, that his image meant something to a corporation that employed thousands of people but god Steve hated it, hated that they had to keep their relationship so secret that nobody even thought to notify him when Tony had gotten seriously hurt.

And when Pepper came back in and quietly shook her head at him, he hated it even more, hated that he couldn’t lie here and comfort his boyfriend the one time he actually asked for it. All for fear of being discovered.

But this wasn’t Steve’s decision to make alone and so he pushed slowly out of the bed, careful not to jostle Tony or wake him.

Pepper smiled ruefully at him as they stood together near the door. “He’ll be going home in the morning,” she said, keeping her voice hushed. “He’d actually argued his way into leaving tonight but this is probably better.”

Steve nodded. They stood in silence for a moment, both of them watching the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest. “Hey Pepper?” Steve said into the silence, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.

“Hmm?”

“What...what exactly happened?”

Pepper sighed. Steve tore his gaze away from Tony and turned to her. She looked utterly exhausted. She looked like he felt, really. 

“They don’t know yet. Or if they do, they’re not ready to offer up an explanation.” She glanced over at him. “Tony claims to have no clue as to what happened. One second he’s speeding back from Syracuse, the next second he’s...” She trailed off.

Steve bit his lip. “I don’t...” he started softly after another long pause, drawing Pepper’s questioning gaze. “I don’t suppose I can...” Steve gestured at the chair beside the bed. 

Pepper squeezed her lips regretfully. “You probably shouldn’t. I mean, the nurses will be coming in to check on him and...” She sighed. “God, this sucks. I’m really sorry, Steve. I know you must have been worried.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “Just a little bit,” he replied, tugging his fingers through his hair. It was probably standing up all over the place by this point. “It’s not your fault. Tony told me at the beginning he needed to keep it quiet. I’d rather not but...” He shrugged. “It’s part and parcel of dating a public figure I guess.”

“That’s dumb. There are plenty of openly gay public figures nowadays. This is just Obadiah Stane finding another way to control Tony.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden vehemence in her tone, her whisper turning into an angry hiss. He was struggling for a reply when a rustling from the bed caught both their attention. Tony was stirring slightly, his hand reaching out for a body that wasn’t there. Steve’s chest tightened.

Tony’s eyes opened slowly with a flutter and both Pepper and Steve stepped forward. Steve reached his side first and he ran a hand comfortingly over the other man’s hair. “Where’d you go?” Tony mumbled up at him. “I thought we had a deal.”

Steve smiled fondly, rather enjoying this clingier, almost cat-like version of his boyfriend. “How are you feeling?” he asked, dodging the question and saving that topic for when Tony was in a better state.

“Good,” Tony replied. “Can I go home now?” 

Pepper stepped forward at that. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night? They’d like to keep you for observation.”

“Jarvis can observe me,” Tony mumbled through a yawn. “I trust him more than these quacks.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You know this is one of the top hospitals in the nation right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s still a hospital, which automatically makes it a shitty place to be.”

Steve couldn’t agree more. As much as he worried about Tony’s wellbeing, he wanted him out of this place that only held memories of pain and death.

“See? Steve agrees with me!”

Steve spluttered as Pepper shot him a glare. “I didn’t say anything!” he said, holding his hands up in defense.

“Yeah but your face said it,” Tony said, reaching up his good hand to poke at Steve’s face.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go back to the tower. But Steve, I’m holding you responsible.”

Steve nodded, fighting down the urge to salute, and Pepper spun on her heel and clicked out of the room.

“Scary, isn’t she?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thanks to the wonderful [nightwalker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwalker/pseuds/nightwalker) for the beta on the smutty bits (and for also inspiring the end of the chapter) - any mistakes or extraneous hands are my fault and mine alone.

It had been two days since Tony had been in the accident. And it had taken two days for Clint to work up the courage to go see him.

They hadn’t really spoken since that night at Clint’s and Tony wasn’t exactly the most forgiving of people. But Clint’s need to see Tony with his own two eyes eventually won out over any concerns that Tony would shoot him on sight.

He took the elevator straight up, just as he did every Thursday, and stepped nervously into the living room when the doors opened.

Tony’s head was hovering over the top of the couch, his dark hair sticking up every which way. The familiar sight immediately calmed Clint and after a moment’s hesitation, he moved further into the room and called out a soft hello. 

Tony turned to look over his shoulder, his face breaking into a smile as he spotted Clint. Clint released a slow breath and approached the couch. Peering over the back, he found Steve curled up on his side with his head resting on Tony’s lap, fast asleep. Tony had his tablet clutched in his good hand, his injured hand wrapped up in a sling. Clint stared at the bruises across his face until Tony cleared his throat. He blinked and dropped his gaze, rubbing the back of his head. He gestured vaguely at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“He, uh, hasn’t really been sleeping much. This was the only way he would agree to take a nap.”

Clint grinned. He never thought Tony would actually like having someone hovering over him constantly but the fond expression on his face definitely said he was enjoying Steve’s attention a whole lot.

“How are you feeling?”

Tony placed the tablet on the arm of the couch, rolling his neck. “Pretty good. But then again, I’m on some pretty hefty painkillers right now so...”

“What exactly do you have?”

“Just a small fracture in my arm, a couple of bruised ribs. They also said I had a concussion but I think that’s a lie they conjured up to try and keep me at the hospital longer. They’re always trying to trap you, those ones.”

Clint whistled lowly, ignoring Tony’s muttered ramblings at the end. “Damn Stark. I suppose it’s typical. I lose my job so you go and crash your car. Always gotta one-up everyone, don’t you?”

Tony furrowed his brow at him and Clint winced, thinking maybe he’d calculated wrong. But then Tony’s face broke into a grin and he relaxed. “What can I say? That’s just my style. Besides, it was either car accident or tank my company and I don’t think Pepper would have been too happy about the second one.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, that’s probably the more life-threatening option of the two.” He wandered around the couch to take a seat in his favored chair. “If you’d croaked it, I would have had to go buy a suit and I really don’t have the funds for that.”

“But apparently you have the funds to buy me flowers?” Tony asked, eyebrow raised.

Clint looked down at the flowers clutched in his hand. He’d forgotten he was even holding them. Sheepish, he stuck them out towards Tony. “I, uh, found them.”

“Are these _stolen_ flowers?” Tony asked incredulously, accepting them with a grin. “Clint, you sly dog, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Clint felt his face heat up slightly. “Shaddup,” he replied, leaning back and kicking his legs up onto the table. He watched idly as Tony placed the flowers gently in the space between Steve and the couch, careful not to crush them.

An awkward silence took over the room. Clint tugged relentlessly at a loose thread on the hole in his jeans. “So um, Coulson offered me a job last Monday.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah. I don’t really know what for. To be an agent I guess? I mean, I don’t understand what they’re looking for...” Clint trailed off, dropping his head so he could properly focus on pulling at that damn thread.

There was a long pause. Clint refused to look up from his extremely vital task. 

“You know,” Tony started casually, “when I said you should come work for SI, that wasn’t just...I mean, I was trying to help, yeah, but it was also because I really think you’d be an asset to the company. You’re a smart guy, Clint. You were wasted on that pizza boy job.”

“I...” Clint swallowed. “Thanks.” He grinned sheepishly at Tony. “I was kind of a dick to you, huh?”

“Lil’ bit. But it’s cool. I’m a dick to people about ninety percent of the time for no reason at all so on Maslow’s Hierachy of Dickishness, you’re already two steps above me.” Clint just shot him a confused look. “Anyway, as far as working for Coulson...I have no clue what they really do, they’re shady as fuck, but I think you’d be great. Whatever sketch-ass ninja shit you’ve got from your past may finally come in handy.”

“Yeah well, we’ll see.” Clint sighed, letting his head flop back onto the top of the chair. “Taking this job feels sort of like I might be signing my life away.”

Tony leaned forward and patted Clint on the knee. “Welcome to adulthood. It sucks.”

Clint snorted. They settled into a more comfortable silence, each sinking into their respective thoughts.

After a few minutes of quiet, Clint pulled his head back up, eyeing Tony. “Hey Tony…” Tony looked questioningly up at him. “The accident…were you…were you drunk?”

Tony’s face immediately closed up, the easiness that had been in the air sucked out of the room like a thirsty kid with a milkshake.

“I know it’s...I just...I had to ask.”

Tony tipped his head back to rest on the couch and scrubbed a hand over his face. He brought it down and began combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, soft, even strokes over the golden strands. Clint didn’t think he’d ever seen him that gentle.

“No I...no, Clint. I wasn’t drunk.” 

Clint watched him stare at the ceiling, his fingers continuing their religious motion. “Okay,” Clint replied quietly.

He didn’t understand the sudden melancholy that seemed to have completely overtaken Tony, the vigor seemingly tugged out from his bones. All of a sudden, it felt very much like he was intruding on something and he stood. “I, uh, I’ll let you get your rest.”

Tony nodded, his eyes falling shut. As Clint passed, he darted one last glance at the other man. Tony’s expression looked anything but restful.

***

Tony’s head was spinning and he was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the medication. 

Clint’s question had cut a little too close to home, especially in it’s validity. No, he hadn’t lied -- he really hadn’t been drunk when he’d crashed his car. That didn’t mean, however, that he’d _never_ driven drunk. Whether it was just after a few ‘harmless’ beers or after one of his infamous benders that usually resulted in Pepper having to do some damage control, it didn’t matter. The fact of the matter was that far too often, he drove over the legal BAC limit without much (or any) regard for the consequences. 

Like getting mugged in an alley or finding a lump where there shouldn’t be, car accidents were one of those things that only seemed to happened to other people. Yet here he was, banged up and bruised and living with the thought that it could have been so much worse.

He paused in his ministrations, letting his hand just rest in Steve’s hair. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Steve as he thought guiltily about what he’d put him through. He couldn’t even imagine...if their positions had been switched...

God, Tony needed to get his shit together, needed not to find himself the villain in the story he was writing yet again. His miserable self-preservation instincts had to step up their game because he was fighting for two now and one of the two was _Steve._

The sad part was that Tony hadn’t even managed to tell Steve just _how_ important he was to Tony, not with the three words that mattered. He’d been ducking and dodging this whole time, suiting up to fight battles that didn’t even exist against an enemy he’d already lost to. Because there was no use denying it; Steve had taken his heart long ago and Tony, to his complete astonishment, had given it up with barely a whimper.

Instead he’d been frantically trying to throw up a wall, trying in vain to separate something that had already become one when all that was left was to embrace it.

Tony rubbed at his eyes and pulled his head up, the effort required far too much for something which, if certain movies were right (and no he did _not_ have lines from chick flicks memorized), should only weigh eight pounds. He peered down at Steve with a frown.

“You can stop pretending now,” he said, his soft voice a pebble dropped into the preceding stillness, rippling out and growing steadily as the carousel of his mind began to slow. “I know you’re awake.”

Steve let his eyes flutter open with a sigh. He shifted onto his back, rolling his head on Tony’s thigh, and blinked up at Tony. “Sorry,” he said, mildly sheepish.

Tony shrugged, starting to card his hand through Steve’s hair once again. “Nothing I’ve never done before.” And before Steve could ask what _that_ meant, he asked, “How much did you hear?”

“Well, apparently Clint’s kind of a dick.”

“Yeah, but only kinda.” Tony paused. “I’m guessing you want to know why he’s a dick.”

“Because those flowers he stole have thorns?” Steve deadpanned, rubbing at his arm with a wince.

Tony glanced down at the bouquet, slightly squashed now between the sofa cushions and Steve’s not insignificant bulk.

“Oh, is that what woke you?” Tony asked.

“It’s fine,” Steve murmured, one side of his mouth lifting. “It’s nice that he brought those, even if he did take them off some poor unsuspecting soul. But since that seemed to make you appreciate the thought even more, it brings us back to the question of how, exactly, he became a dick in your eyes.”

“I think you just like saying the word dick.”

“It’s possible,” Steve said agreeably.

Tony could see it in Steve’s eyes that he wasn’t going to push this, that he was offering Tony the chance to banter his way out of this conversation and was completely expecting Tony to seize said opportunity with both hands.

“Did you know Clint lost his job?” Tony couldn’t tell if the surprise on Steve’s face was from finding about Clint’s employment situation or from the fact that Tony hadn’t made a dick joke and moved on. “Yeah, the day after my birthday actually. Apparently he OD’d on beer and tiramisu and was late to work the next day.”

“Wow. That’s terrible. Is he doing okay?”

Tony shrugged, dropping his hand back to his side. “I guess. You heard him say he’s got a job offer right?” Steve nodded, the motion a comforting roll across the muscles of Tony’s thigh. “So I guess he’s going to take it, get some money back in his pocket.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Tony said on an exhale. “Yeah,” he repeated after a moment, more firmly this time. “I’m happy for him, he deserved it.”

“So what was the rest of it?” Apparently now that Tony had taken that first chip at the wall, Steve had no problem sending a wrecking ball in. Tony found he didn’t mind much (quite the opposite, really).

“When he told me what happened, which he only even did because...well that’s kind of a long story but basically when I found out what was going on I offered to help him out, you know, just until he gets back on his feet and he...he wasn’t too happy about that.”

Tony’s eyes skittered off to the side, away from Steve’s burning gaze. “I offered him a job, which, fine, I get why he didn’t want to take it. I mean Clint is totally not cut out for the corporate world. But the money, well, I guess I know why he refused it but it still makes no sense to me and the _way_ he did it, like I’d completely offended him and all his future children by even offering...”

Steve picked up Tony’s uninjured hand, resting their tangled fingers on his broad chest.“Does this have something to do with that night you showed up at my place in the middle of the night?”

Tony nodded miserably. “My conversation with Clint...I guess it just made me think about a few things.” He sighed, tipping his head back once again. 

“I kinda see where he’s coming from,” Steve said into the silence.

“I’m not surprised,” Tony replied simply.

Steve sat up and shifted so he was facing Tony, his shoulder pressed up against the couch back. Tony wordlessly shifted in response, finally meeting Steve’s eye.

“I see it from you all the time Steve,” he continued. “The stubborn expression you get anytime anyone _remotely_ tries to give you something or tries to help you in some way. You have a lot of pride, and that’s great, that’s awesome, more power to you but...do you know how _frustrating_ it is when you care about someone and want to do stuff for them, want to give them _the world_ , and they won’t let you? And I know it’s galling to hear this, Clint didn’t like it when I said it either, but I’m not lying when I say it’s not an inconvenience for me. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I can lend Clint a couple of thousand dollars and not even notice. And yeah, I hear it, I can hear how that sounds but that’s the way things are and the point of this, of _us_ , is that we can say things like that without having to tiptoe around them. There’s no _room_ for social niceties once you get close enough to someone.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I had that in my friendship with Clint but it’s clear now that I don’t -- we’re just...we’re not there. And I...I’m not too sure that you and I are either,” he finished hesitantly.

Steve stared at him, his mind clearly ticking away. Tony stared back, resisting the urge to turn away. “You’re right,” Steve said finally.

Tony’s eyes widened. “I am?”

And Tony could see that look Steve got in his eye sometimes, that spark that meant he’d just done something or said something that miraculously made Steve want to kiss him and sure enough, with a careful hand on the unbruised side of Tony’s face (of course), Steve pressed his lips hard against Tony’s, feeling for all the world as if he was trying to tell Tony an entire story through the simple touch. Tony responded immediately, his good arm coming up around Steve’s neck even as he grinned against Steve’s lips.

They broke away after a moment, Tony’s bruised ribs making it unfortunately unpleasant for him to go without air for too long. Steve dropped his head to Tony’s shoulder, a contented sigh blowing against his skin.

And Tony was suddenly keenly aware of the alarming burning in his heart, the fire that had been building and building until it was bigger than the sun and he had no idea how he hadn’t just burst apart with it.

This was the new him right? Mushy confessions and all?

“Hey, Steve.”

“Mmm?” Steve murmured, picking his head up.

Tony took a deep breath (ow). “Iloveyou,” he let out all at once.

Steve paused, frozen for a second. Then his mouth quirked. “I know.” 

And Tony found himself again in shock as Steve attempted to battle down a grin. “Was that a Star Wars reference?” Tony eventually managed.

“Possibly.”

“Have you just been waiting to do that?”

“Even more possibly.”

“But you don’t even _like_ Star Wars.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, but you do.”

And god, didn’t that just say it all. 

“Hey, Steve.”

“Mmm?”

“You’re an idiot.”

And finally Steve let the grin out completely, his lips stretching as wide as they could go and his eyes completely alight. “I know.” And before Tony could respond, Steve captured his lips once again.

He started to bend Tony backwards into the cushions but Tony, struck by a sudden thought, braced his arm behind him to catch them both and stop the movement.

“Hey wait,” he said, pulling away from Steve’s mouth, “does this mean I can buy you a new apartment?”

“Nope,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Just because I might agree with you doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind.” Tony humphed. “But,” Steve continued, “since we both get something out of it, I will let you buy me a new bed.”

Tony grinned. He unlocked his arm and dropped flat back onto the couch, clenching a hand in the fabric of Steve’s shirt to pull him down after him. “Deal.”

Steve hovered over him, his weight balanced on the two arms planted either side of Tony on the mercifully large couch. Tony wrapped a hand around the back of Steve’s neck and attempted to pull him the rest of the way down for a kiss but Steve resisted.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Steve said, his eyes running over Tony’s now-yellow face and bandaged arm. Steve hoisted himself upright, leaving Tony half-stretched out on the couch beside him, his legs dangling off the edge.

Tony propped himself up on his arm and glared at him. “Really, Steve? _Really_?!” he said incredulously. “I’m fine!”

Steve just glared right back. “You are _not_ fine.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You were in a car accident two days ago. You have a _broken arm_ Tony.”

“It’s just fractured,” Tony muttered. “Besides,” he retorted, “what does _that_ have to do with anything? My dick works just fine.”

Steve opened his mouth. Then shut it.

Tony cocked his head at him. “What?” he asked curiously. “Are you going to tell me I’m right again? Because twice in one day, I don’t know if I can--“

“No,” Steve interjected. “I still don’t think you should be doing anything strenuous. But I guess...”

And Tony just watched in astonishment as Steve stared at his crotch silently for a moment, then scooted backwards on the couch, rearranging them so that he was on his knees between Tony’s legs. He leaned forward and settled his hands on Tony’s hips, one thumb stroking over the waistband of his sweatpants while the other hand pushed Tony’s shirt up slightly, revealing the taut skin beneath.

Tony gaped as Steve pressed his mouth to the hollow of Tony’s pelvis, his hand clenched in the fabric of Tony’s sweatpants, gently starting to work them down. He continued to kiss his way down the line of Tony’s skin, the gentle pull of his hand exposing it bit-by-bit. 

“I thought you just said--“

Tony’s words swiftly turned incoherent as Steve decided to skip to his rapidly-hardening cock, now completely freed by Steve’s impatient hand.

Steve’s breath was hot against Tony’s skin as he mouthed at the end of Tony’s cock, his tongue darting out and over the slit that was already leaking pre-come. 

Tony groaned. “Oh god, Steven Rogers, what are you doing to me? This is definitely strenuous, I don’t--“

It seemed Steve was determined to shut Tony up one way or another. He pulled away from his licking and sucking long enough to tug Tony’s sweatpants all the way down and off, letting them flop to the floor beside the couch, then dropped back down and took Tony’s entire cock in his mouth. He paused there for a moment, his tongue flat against Tony’s skin and Tony clenched both fists, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm and trying desperately not to thrust upwards into the delicious wet heat.

Steve pulled off suddenly, picking up his head and flashing Tony a dirty, _filthy,_ grin through cherry lips glistening with spit and pre-come. Keeping his gaze fixed on Tony, he stuck one finger in his mouth and pulled it out slowly, coating it with saliva. With a terrible glint in his eye, he leaned forward once again and licked lightly at the tip of Tony’s cock even as his slicked-up hand worked it’s way under Tony’s ass and towards his opening.

Steve’s tongue painted a long slow stripe up the underside of Tony’s shaft while his finger brushed over Tony’s hole and the sight of Steve bent over him, forehead creased in concentration as he worked at both Tony’s cock and ass at once was too much for Tony and he threw his uninjured arm over his eyes with a moan. Fuck, what the hell did he do in his last life to deserve this?

Steve brushed his finger over Tony’s hole again. “Okay?” And god, Steve’s voice was _ragged,_ like this attempt to relieve Tony was wrecking him just as much as it was Tony.

Tony picked his arm up just enough to peer beneath it at the wonderful man before him, flushed and sweaty, a tentativeness in his countenance that seemed so at odds with the wicked look that had been there before.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s good, just fucking, Steve, god I need, please, just fucking--“

Steve carefully pushed his finger inside him, and there was the stretch, the expected burn but god, he needed, he wanted--

His cock was suddenly enveloped once again in that amazing slick heat as Steve took him in his mouth completely, his other hand wrapped around Tony’s thigh to steady him as he bobbed up and down, and Tony’s hips canted and his back arched and then Steve crooked his finger, once, twice, searching, and suddenly everything was lost in a haze as Tony came apart with a string of obscenities, his every muscle clenched tight as he felt himself pulled under by the tidal wave rocking through him.

Steve swallowed every last drop of his come - Tony opened his eyes just in time to see his tongue shoot out to lick at the corner of his lips and he groaned. “Fuck, Steve, I swear to god, you’re trying to kill me,” he panted out, the tremble in his words matching the one rolling through his very bones. Tony reached his hand down and mustered what measly strength he had left to tug at Steve’s bicep, pulling him up so he could lick his way inside Steve’s mouth (his ex-therapist would probably have a lot to say about how much he loved the taste of himself).

They shifted so that they lay face-to-face, Tony stretched out on his uninjured side and Steve just barely managing not to fall off the couch. Tony’s leg nudged up against Steve’s groin. bumping up against his stiff cock. “Are you going to let me return the favor?” Tony asked, each word a battle to get out in his lazy satiation even as his heart-rate tried to bring itself back to earth.

“Maybe in a few weeks,” Steve answered casually, yanking down the blanket from the top of the couch to drape over the two of them.

“ _A few weeks?!_ ” Tony yelped, all traces of lassitude gone. “You’re telling me we’re not going to have sex for _weeks_?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “We just had sex.”

“Okay, I am _not_ going to get into a debate with you about what does and doesn’t count as sex--“

“Yes, please don’t.”

They both jumped. “Ow,” Tony moaned as his arm bumped against the sofa back. Steve just raised an eyebrow at him, ‘I-told-you-so’ all over his face. Tony stuck his tongue out at him in response.

Steve rolled his eyes, pushing up onto one arm to peek over the couch at the spot where the voice had come from.

“Oh, hello,” he said awkwardly as he caught sight of the man in the doorway.

Tony sighed, knowing exactly who it was. “Tell Coulson he has terrible timing,” Tony mumbled.

“Actually, it appears I have great timing,” Coulson responded as he rounded the couch, his dark sunglasses dangling in one hand. “Apparently I arrived not a moment too soon,” he said, peering down at Tony’s sweatpants discarded on the floor.

Steve’s face turned bright red. He struggled to to untangle himself from Tony while ensuring the other man remained suitably covered by the blanket but all he managed to do instead was fall to the floor with a thump, accidentally pulling the blanket down with him.

“Don’t worry.” Tony grinned, ignoring Steve’s attempts to cover him up and pushing to his feet. “Coulson’s probably seen it all before.”

Coulson declined to comment, leading Steve to frown up at Tony.

“Steve, this is Agent Coulson, my head of security,” Tony said in answer to Steve’s questioning look as he bent forward to pick up his sweatpants. 

Steve scrambled to his feet and stuck out his hand.

“Don’t bother,” Tony cut in as Steve opened his mouth to introduce himself. “He already knows who you are.”

Coulson took Steve’s hand and pumped it up and down, since Steve seemed to be frozen. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers.”

“Wow, he must really like what he saw in your file,” Tony remarked, letting his waistband snap into place. “I’ve never heard him say it was a pleasure to do _anything_.” 

Steve cleared his throat. “Erm, nice to meet you too,” he mumbled. 

“So what’s going on?” Tony said, flopping back onto the couch and wincing slightly when his fractured arm bounced against his bruised rib (god, why was it so hard for him to remember he was injured?)

“We have new information about your accident.” Tony shot up.

“ _And?”_ he pushed when Coulson hesitated.

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Tony blinked, waiting for more. “That’s it?” he said finally, when it was clear that Coulson wasn’t going to divulge anything else. “That’s all you have? A three-year old could have told you that!”

Coulson, of course, was particularly skilled at ignoring Tony when he needed to. “We’re going to be posting a detail with you at all times.” He beckoned at somebody behind them and Tony turned just in time to see Natasha slink in.

“Okay fine, whatever, but tell me this isn’t all you know.”

“Everything else is merely speculation at this moment. Until we have more conclusive proof--“

“Natasha’s going to be stalking me?”

Coulson’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Essentially, yes.”

Natasha circled around to stand by Coulson’s side, having finished whatever sweep of the apartment she’d been conducting. “Hey Steve, it’s good to see you.” She nodded at Tony. “Stark.”

Tony spluttered. “How come he gets polite handshakes and greetings and I just get _that_? _I’m_ the one paying your bills!”

Natasha just rolled her eyes.

“We’ll keep you posted if we have any updates,” Coulson said briskly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Tony muttered, nose scrunched in annoyance.

And with a last nod at Steve and glance at Natasha, Coulson made his way to the exit. 

“Stark.” Tony turned to find Coulson hesitating in the doorway and raised a curious eyebrow. “This is the real thing. Don’t take it lightly.”

Tony nodded tightly. That was...unusual. He suppressed a shiver as he turned back to the other two.

“I’ll be outside,” Natasha said shortly and she spun on her heel and strode out.

Steve was staring after her, looking far too woebegone with his hunched posture, his bottom lip caught worriedly between his teeth.

“Hey,” Tony murmured, stepping forward and rubbing his good hand up and down Steve’s arm, “it’s fine, it’ll be okay. They deal with stuff like this all the time, they’re pros at this. They could handle it in their sleep.” 

“Then why did Coulson feel the need to give you an extra warning?” Steve shot back.

“Because Coulson’s day isn’t complete unless he makes somebody wet their pants in fear.”

“So you _are_ worried then.”

“No, I--“ Tony broke off with a sigh. “Yeah, okay, fine, I’m a _leetle_ concerned. But I also have full confidence in Coulson. _And_ Natasha. Woman’s more terrifying than Pepper and I don’t say that lightly.”

Steve still look unconvinced. He looped his arms around Tony’s waist and swayed forward until their foreheads touched. “I just...I don’t think I could handle it if anything happened to you,” he said softly, the words a whisper over Tony’s skin. 

Tony once again felt the guilt shoot through him. “Then I won’t let anything happen to me,” he answered resolutely, and instead of letting Steve argue, he tilted his head up and pressed their mouths together.

He felt Steve sigh against his lips, though whether it was in pleasure or discontent at being cut off, he didn’t know. They broke apart and Steve pulled Tony in against his chest, tucking Tony’s head under his chin. Tony stood there for a moment, breathing deep into Steve’s neck and just enjoying the comforting warmth of his skin. He felt Steve drop a kiss on top of his head and his heart squeezed a little.

Hoping Steve was too distracted to recall the extent of his injuries, Tony let his good hand trace it’s way down Steve’s side and slide in towards his crotch. “So,” he said, cupping his hand over the bulge, “is it time for me to return the favor yet?”

Steve snorted into his hair. “God, I love you.”

Tony pulled his head back and peered up at Steve.

“Is that a yes?”

Steve just grabbed Tony by his good arm and tugged him off towards the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of lines are paraphrased lyrics from 'You Are A Tourist' by Death Cab for Cutie, which is the song this fic is titled after.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve whistled as he carefully flipped the pancakes over. He’d tried the tossing-them-into-the-air-with-the-pan thing once and that hadn’t really…panned out. The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he glanced up just long enough to see Tony padding sleepily into the room, eyes still half-closed.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, flipping the pancake onto a plate already stacked with two others. He turned and set the plate down in front of Tony, who’d slumped at the island with his chin propped on his hand. Steve smiled to himself as he went to pour a cup of coffee. He walked around the island and set the coffee beside the plate, dropping a kiss on Tony’s mussed hair before he returned to the stove to make his own breakfast. Tony made a strange noise Steve couldn’t quite figure out, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw it was because Tony was attempting to talk while gulping down the piping hot coffee. Steve just shook his head even as something in his chest swelled at the familiar sight.

Even since late yesterday, Steve’s thoughts had been whirring around as much as the strawberries he’d just thrown in the blender, rarely giving time for his heart to settle as they flitted from one thing to the next.

Because Tony loved him! And no matter how much Steve had played it off, the three words Tony had finally said were still shooting around his brain like a pinball and his face was starting to ache from trying to fight off the stupid grin that kept trying to claw its way on there.

But then there was also the insane danger he was in, a fact that Tony seemed determined to underplay. And Steve wasn’t an idiot -- he knew there were just some promises Tony couldn’t make, let alone keep. But between Natasha’s mildly unnerving presence and the grudging respect Coulson seemed to have earned from Tony, Steve’s itch was set at ease just a little.

He poured out his protein shake into a glass, a thought striking him as he went over their conversation yesterday.

“Hey, Tony?”

“Hmm?” Tony responded distractedly. Steve turned around to find Tony had demolished his pancakes and was now sticking the wrong end of his fork down his cast, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to get at an itchy spot just out of reach. Steve bit back the admonishment - he'd already lectured Tony on infections and really, he'd probably be doing the same.

“Isn’t it kind of weird that Coulson calls you Stark?” he said instead, continuing his original thought. “Not, like, Mr. Stark, or boss or something? Not even Tony, like Pepper does. Is that normal?”

Tony shrugged. “He’s always done that.”

“How long has he been working for you?”

Tony frowned. “I don’t really know. Since the day I graduated I guess? I think we’ve been using the same security company since before I joined Stark Industries, when Obie was running things.”

Steve refrained from pointing out that Obie was still running things.

"Sir, Ms. Potts is on the line for you."

"Yeah, Pepper, what's up?" Tony said into the air, much more alert now that he’d been fed and coffee-ed. "Did Coulson call to complain about me because really _he_ walked in unannounced and sidebar JARVIS we are going to have to talk about that at some point, just because the man is security doesn't mean he can expect to waltz in whenever he feels like. Know what happens when you waltz, Pepper? You get to see a little more than you expected and that's just--"

"Tony," Pepper intoned, her steady voice playing out through the speakers into the kitchen at large.

"He's lucky people shake hands with their right, I'll tell you that--"

" _Tony._ "

"You should have seen Steve's face, I thought he was going to combust, right there in the living room--"

" _TONY!_ "

" _What_ , Pepper? Jeez, didn't your mother teach you not to interrupt?”

JARVIS wasn't projecting a video to go with Pepper’s voice but if he were, Steve would bet that Pepper would be rubbing her temples right now in that special way she saved just for Tony.

"JARVIS, just show them," Pepper said, defeat dripping through the speakers.

The kitchen counter suddenly lit up and a feed of what appeared to be a live news channel appeared.

Steve 's eyes widened as he found himself staring down at a familiar picture. It was of their first kiss, the one in the pouring rain that Bucky had thought to capture. For the first time, Steve didn't get the familiar swooping in his stomach at the sight of it. Instead of flying high, he felt like he was plummeting to the ground without a parachute.

"-- _the man in the picture is still unidentified, although sources are suggesting he_ \--"

The channel flipped - Steve didn't know if Tony had done something or if JARVIS was just acting on his own accord.

"-- _have dropped a hundred and twenty points at the news and are predicted to drop further before the day's end._ "

It changed again and there was the photo again, glaring up at him.

"-- _still waiting on confirmation on the authenticity of the pictures but it seems that with this pronouncement, other men are coming out of the woodwork, claiming to have had some sort of relations with Tony Stark._ "

And that was when Steve caught sight of the banner at the bottom.

**_Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries - gay?_ **

" _Yes, he is pretty well-known for being a playboy and that's what interesting. How much of that was just a front? Some kind of overcompensation perhaps? I mean--_ "

Flip.

" _\--we now have confirmation that the man in the pictures is a Steven Rogers, recent graduate of Boston University and a junior art designer at Ogilyvy and Math--_ "

Flip.

" _\--is second picture was clearly taken some time after, suggesting this is not just one of Stark's many casual flings. Stark has built a reputation as a notorious womanizer and--_ "

Flip.

" _\--possibly the first CEO of a Fortune 500 company to--_ "

Flip.

" _\--always knew he was gay. I mean, no straight man is that well-groomed all the time--_ "

"Thank you, JARVIS."

Steve jumped as Pepper's voice cut in over the young lady on-screen. The feed abruptly cut out, leaving the two of them just staring down at the kitchen counter in the sudden silence.

"How?" Tony's voice had the barest of trembles to it but it was the unusual pithiness that really got Steve. Tony wasn't looking at him, instead staring out the large window at the bustling city beneath them, at the millions of people who now knew that Tony and Steve were...

"We're trying to find the source now."

Steve patted his pockets, glad to find his phone still there. The motion caught Tony’s attention but he didn't say anything.

Instead Tony dragged his gaze up until their eyes met. There was a flash of _something_ in his eye before Tony turned away and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Pepper's image appeared onscreen as he held it up.

"Control it," Tony said shortly.

"You mean--"

Tony had turned his entire body away from Steve now, walking away as he glared at the phone in his hand. "Shut it down."

Steve couldn't see Pepper's face but he could hear the hesitation in her next word. "Tony..." Tony's name was like an entire language for Pepper, her every pronouncement of the four letters taking on a new meaning each and every time.

"I said shut it down. Completely."

Pepper sighed. "I'll try but I don't think this is going to go away. Not with the photos out there."

"Thank you. I'll talk to you later."

There was a silence in which Tony just stared at the screen before he dismissively said, "Yeah, bye."

Tony slipped the phone back in his pocket and moved back towards the kitchen counter, where Steve still stood silently watching.

"You're going to have to lay low for awhile until this all blows over--"

Steve snorted harshly and Tony trailed off. "You really think this is just going to _blow over?_ " And Steve was angry, angrier than he'd been in a long while because yes, he'd been preparing himself for this, for the idea that one day this was going to come out and he'd more than suspected that Tony wouldn't handle it well but a small part of him had been stupidly holding out for the hope that he'd been wrong.

Tony wouldn't even meet his eye. Steve rounded the counter, tugging off the apron he'd been wearing to make breakfast. God, was it really just twenty minutes ago that he'd been happily stirring pancake batter and feeling on top of the world?

"What the hell do you think is going to happen, Tony? You think people are going to just forget they ever saw those photos? That they'll _believe_ you when you say they aren't real, or whatever line Pepper is going to feed them? What are you expecting here, exactly?"

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't just about me. I have a company to worry about, shareholders who _rely_ on--"

"Oh, cut the crap. If you're not ready to come out, that's fine, but stop using your business as an excuse. Stark Industries is a company, not a closet."

"Is it really fine Steve? Is it? Because it seems to me that you won't be happy until the entire world knows I like dick."

"Are we really going back to that again? That's _not_ what this is about."

"So what _is_ it about Steve? Huh? Tell me."

Steve opened his mouth. And then shut it again. Tony watched and waited, chest heaving.

"I should just go," Steve said finally. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll...we'll..." He trailed off as Tony just stared at him, expression inscrutable as ever and suddenly the heat flared in his chest again. "I'll go _lay low_ ," he said mockingly. "Let me know when it's safe to raise my head." And with that, he spun on his heel.

"Steve, wait!" The words came too late, reaching his ears right as the elevators slid shut.

It was just as well. Steve didn't really know where to go from here or what there was to be said. He slumped back against the wall and buried his face in his hand, heaving a deep sigh through his fingertips.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator he was tugged sideways. Not expecting it in the least, he went easily, following along before his mind had time to catch up to what was happening.

He blinked, once, twice, trailing his gaze up the hand clamped around his wrist to the face attached to it.

" _Happy?_ " he said in shock.

"Sorry, sir. Reporters are gathered out front. I was asked to take you out the side."

Oh. That's probably what Tony had been calling after him about -- not to apologize but to warn him about the press. Disappointment pooled in his stomach.

They pushed through a small door Steve had never seen before. There was a discreet town car sitting outside and leaning against the door was none other than one Tony Stark.

Steve didn't even have space in his brain left to wonder how Tony had beaten him down there between all the emotions that were warring for attention, demanding they be felt foremost.

"Happy will take you wherever you want to go," Tony said quietly, pushing off the side as Happy rounded the car and climbed into the driver's seat. Tony was once again avoiding Steve's eye, choosing instead to focus on a point somewhere over his shoulder.

After a moment's hesitation, Steve nodded briskly and stepped up to the car as Tony shuffled backwards, making room for Steve to open the door.

"Steve." Steve froze, his fingers curled around the handle. "I..." Steve watched as Tony warred with himself, then seemed to drop what he wanted to say.

"Things are going to get a little crazy for you for awhile. Perks of dating an obnoxious billionaire," Tony said wryly, the tone of experience ringing out in his voice. The authority with which he spoke irked Steve somehow.

"I'll be fine," he replied shortly.

And then it was Tony's turn to nod. Steve looked at Tony's slumped posture, the swelling on his face, the fluffy slippers he was scuffing with every kick of his foot..."I..." Tony raised his head ever so slightly, perking up not too little like a cat at Steve’s hesitant voice. "I'll see you." And Steve ducked into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

***

Tony paced back and forth, shooting the occasional glare at his phone as he passed it. The stupid thing was playing innocent on the couch where he’d tossed it, taunting him with its silence.

He snagged it on his next pass, finally giving in to his impatience. His thumb hovered over the 4 on his speed dial, then drifted over to the 2 instead because it sure as hell hadn’t seemed like Steve was going to be waiting for his phone call.

“ _You have reached the voicemail of Sergeant James Rhodes. I’m not available to take your call right now--_ “

Tony groaned loudly and hung up. He tossed the phone back on the couch, then paused, tilting his head at it thoughtfully. With a squeeze of his lips, he picked it up again and dialed a different number.

"Barnes.”

"Stark! What the hell?!" Barnes was glaring at him through his phone, shock and indignation warring on his face.

“Nice to see you too,” Tony deadpanned. “Do you answer all your phone calls that way?”

"When they look like you, yes. I didn't even know my phone _had_ video calling."

"It didn't. I made some modifications before you went back to Boston."

" _Why?_ "

"So I could look at your beautiful face. Why do you _think?_ "

"For Steve?"

"Well, looks like I'm not the only genius in this conversation."

"Okay, what the hell do you want?" Tony’s uncharacteristic hesitation must have sparked warning bells for Barnes and Tony saw him kick his door shut behind him. "What happened?" Barnes said, his tone marginally softer than before.

And perhaps it was the way Barnes had asked instead of assuming Tony had done wrong that made him rethink his plan of accusing Barnes outright of leaking the photos, made him pause and give a hesitant rundown of the morning’s events instead. Of course, for all Tony liked to joke about it, Barnes wasn’t a dumb guy. 

"And you think I leaked them, don't you?"

There was no way to respond to that but to nod, especially since Tony still didn't know for sure. But if Barnes said he didn't…

"I didn't."

Then Tony would resolve to believe him.

\--

"You realize what a cliché we are right now, don't you?" 

Steve tugged his spoon out of his mouth and dipped it back into his ice cream, swirling it around to catch some of the whipped cream that had fallen off to the edge of the cup. "Would you rather be eating sausages instead?"

"No," Bruce answered between licks off his own spoon, his tongue nipping out like a cat's. "That's what got you into this mess in the first place."

Steve shot Bruce a glare and Bruce just lifted one side of his mouth in response. "Sorry. So you just left?"

Steve shrugged. "I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing. I was just so..."

"Angry?"

"Yeah," Steve said on an exhale.

Bruce looked at him silently, spoon parked momentarily in his melting ice cream. "Why?" he asked after a moment.

"Why was I angry?"

"Why were you _so_ angry? Angry enough that you felt like you had to just get away from him? Were you afraid of saying something you regret?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Okay, so why?"

Steve just stared silently into his cup.

"Look, Steve. If there's anything I know, it's anger, and anger like that...it doesn't just come out of nowhere. That's the kind of rage that's been simmering for a while. Maybe you've tried to put a lid on it to keep it from boiling over but that doesn't work. It just lets it build hotter and hotter and makes a bigger mess than if you'd just put out the fire to begin with. But it's hard to put out a fire if you don't know what's fueling it. So.” He picked up his spoon again. “Why were you so angry Steve?"

\--

"I'd already been deployed at that point,” said Barnes, “and of course, Steve was diligent about sending me letters from back home. Wrote about twice a week at least, whether I replied or not. And I started seeing mentions of this guy, right? Just here and there at first, but it pretty quickly got to a point where Steve would gush on for pages and pages about him - his hair, his eyes, his kind nature. I think Steve felt freed in some ways by writing and was putting to paper things he’d never say aloud. Either way, it was pretty easy to see Steve was pretty much gone when it came to this dude.

“But then, one day, I got a letter from Steve and there was absolutely no mention of him. It didn't tail off, there was no warning. Steve just stopped writing about him entirely. It was like he never even existed. And when I asked Peggy about it all she said was that it was bad.”

Tony tried to force down the terrible apprehension that was building in his gut as Barnes rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I got hurt a couple of weeks later and when I got back I asked him about it, partly in an attempt to distract myself from my own misery. And you know, if Steve wasn’t Steve, I’d say he was almost grateful for my injury because it gave him something else to focus on besides his own shit.”

He shook his head slightly, as if shaking off the memories of those days when he’d first come back a part instead of a whole. “Anyway, it turns out the guy was from a small town in the South, conservative family and all that. He wasn't really comfortable with the whole coming out thing yet. I don't even think any of his friends knew. Steve understood that and they kept it a secret and I guess it worked for a while. But then I guess people started noticing things and I’ve never heard of anyone doing a 180 so fast. This guy...he was just so _cruel_ to Steve. I mean, Steve had _just_ stopped struggling with who he was and learned to stand up proud.”

Barnes sighed and tangled a hand in his hair. “You have to understand, Stark. Steve loved Peggy, sure, but this was different. This was his first relationship where he could really…be _himself_. It’s probably not what you want to hear but it was his first real love, I think.” His expression turned fierce, a fire sparking in his eyes as his voice grew grittier. “And then to have him…I mean this guy…it wasn’t even that he just stood by when his friends were making their stupid comments. He actually _joined_ in. Who the hell does that?! Like, how can you call someone disgusting names and fucking _cheer_ when your friends push him around and then tell him you love him behind closed doors?"

It was probably for the best that Barnes wasn't expecting an answer, since Tony was having trouble thinking through the nausea that had overcome him at his words. “But that’s exactly what this asshole did," Barnes spat. "And Steve, you know him; he always looks for the best in everyone. So he held on for a little longer than he should have, let himself hope again and again only to be disappointed every time. I don’t know if there was one particular incident that pushed him over the edge or if he finally decided he’d had enough but he eventually got out." Barnes snorted. "And gave the guy a piece of his mind while he was at it, from what I hear." He sighed then, his expression softening as he glanced off to the side. "But it took him a long while to recover from that.”

\--

Bruce let out a low whistle when Steve was done, leaning back in his chair. “But you know Tony’s not like that right?” he asked quietly after a moment.

“Do I?” Steve responded, a wry twist to his lips.

“Steve--“

“Forget it, Bruce. Let’s just talk about something else.” 

Bruce sighed gustily but leaned forward and picked up his spoon again. He focused hard on digging up a huge bite then glanced up and asked, “Did I tell you I fixed the oven?”

\--

"Is that why you hate me? Because you thought I was like that guy?" Tony glared at his phone. "I would _never_ do that to Steve," he finished vehemently.

"I don't hate you," Barnes answered, confusion creasing his brow.

"Uh, yes you do."

Barnes just frowned at him.

"You punched me! Twice?"

"Are you saying you didn't deserve it?"

Tony gave up, deciding there were better uses of his time than trying to convince Barnes he hated his guts.

***

They ended up going for a movie after the ice cream, some mindless flick about mutant octopi or something. To be honest, it was much more Bruce’s taste than Steve’s and it hadn’t managed to hold his attention long enough to distract him from his fight with Tony.

Maybe Steve was just thinking too much, the doubts in his mind a result of letting his thoughts chase themselves in circles until he was framing rights into wrongs. Maybe he should just try talking to Tony again, solve this the mature way instead of just sneering at him and storming out.

“Steve,” Bruce whispered, nudging him with his elbow in the dark theater.

“Hmm?” Steve replied, ducking his head so they could speak in hushed tones. Not that anyone could hear them over the sound off crowds running and screaming from a giant pink octopus.

“I can _hear_ you thinking.”

Okay so maybe his instincts were right on the overanalyzing thing. “Sorry,” Steve whispered back. “I’m just going to go get some air,” he added after a moment.

He scrambled out of his seat before Bruce could reply, grateful for the almost-empty theater so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly climb over anyone.

As soon as he reached the lobby he slumped against a pillar and released a long breath. God, he was pathetic. It hadn’t even been six hours since he and Tony had had their…discussion, and already he was missing him.

“You alright?”

Steve jumped. Bruce was standing next to him, peering at him with a frown. Steve straightened up and ran a hand through his hair.

“The movie over already?” Steve said in response.

“Nah,” Bruce replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But I saw it last week.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Then why’d you pick that one?”

Bruce shrugged. “I thought it was good at distracting people from problems. Evidently that doesn’t hold for everyone.”

It was Steve’s turn to frown. It occurred to him then that he’d been so caught up with this thing with Tony that he’d been completely neglecting Bruce. It had to be hard for him, starting in a new city with a new job on top of everything he’d already been struggling with.

“Bruce--“

Bruce held up his hand, silencing Steve. “It’s okay, Steve,” he said kindly. “Just because we’re roommates it doesn’t mean you’re required to listen to me whine.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “That’s not at all--“

“Besides,” Bruce continued, not letting Steve finish. “I like hearing about you and Tony. It’s cheaper than getting a TV.” 

Steve knew Bruce was probably saying that to deflect the conversation from himself but it still bugged Steve, mostly in how true it was. Lately they’re lives really had been like those terrible daytime soaps Bruce, for some reason, loved to watch.

Steve sighed and buried his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do. I mean, you're right. This entire relationship has been a mess from the start.”

“That's not what I said. I mean, yeah you guys have been through a lot but really? It just seems to bring you closer together every time. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Steve peeked up at Bruce from between his fingers. “You guys are like…it’s like you’re meant to be in each other’s orbits. I’ve never seen a better living example of ‘the whole is greater than the sum of its parts’.”

Steve dropped his hands and tilted his head back against the pillar. “So what, then? What happens next?”

Bruce shrugged. "That's up to you."

***

When the knock came later that night, Steve wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his jeans and took a deep breath before standing to answer it.

“Hi,” Tony said quietly once Steve’d gotten all three locks opened.

“Hi,” Steve replied.

They stared silently at each other for a moment, the awkwardness palpable in their strange game of Chicken.

Tony glanced away first, switching his focus to his hand as he picked at a splinter in the doorjamb. “Uh, can I come in?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Steve said, feeling foolish as he stepped back and pulled open the door further. Tony took a step forward, revealing Natasha leaning against the banister behind him. She nodded at Steve, then returned to the Sudoku puzzle in her hand.

As Tony walked in, Bruce’s door opened and he came out, slipping his wallet into his pocket. “Hey, I’m gonna head out for a bit. See ya.” And then he was gone, pulling the front door shut behind him.

“That’s why I like him.” Steve turned from staring at the door to where Tony stood somewhat uncomfortably in the middle of the room. “Didn’t even bother trying to make up an excuse.”

Steve stuck his hands in his pocket and cleared his throat before answering with a simple, "Yeah.” He dropped his gaze, trailing his toe over the dirty floor.

“Steve, I--“

“Tony, look--“

Tony shot him a little smile. “You first.”

“I don’t…I guess…I guess I just don’t get it. Maybe you should go first.”

“Alright. But I have a feeling this is gonna take awhile. Can we sit or something?”

Steve nodded and they moved to the small kitchen nook, perching on the crappy old folding chairs. Tony leaned forward, his weight resting on his elbows on the rickety card table but quickly pulled back when it creaked ominously.

He looked like he was about to comment on it but swallowed the words down instead and it was that that made the sadness well up unexpectedly in Steve, that sign that maybe something between them really had broken this time.

“I talked to Bucky.” Steve blinked, not expecting that in the least. “Believe me, I’m just as shocked as you are that we actually _talked_ instead of whatever it is we usually do.”

“I guess he told you the whole story then,” Steve said, no question in his words.

“Well, as much of the story as he had to give me,” Tony replied. “And I guess it makes sense, if that’s the way this whole thing has gone for you in the past, why you keep pushing this whole coming out thing…”

“It’s not just about…Tony it’s not just that.” Steve scratched his thumbnail over the surface of the table, his eyes following his hand as it ran back and forth. “When you were in the hospital I was…I found out about the accident from _Bruce_. And then I couldn’t even get in to see you! I mean, I can’t…I…do you _get_ how hard this whole thing was for me?” He swallowed hard and finally lifted his head. “Do you _understand_ how _much_ I love you?”

Tony blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly like he knew he was supposed to say something but couldn’t for the life of him figure out what that something was.

“But I get that it’s hard,” Steve continued when it became apparent that Tony had no response. Not that Steve had been expecting one. “I was pretty lucky, I mean, my mom always encouraged me to be proud of who I am, no matter what. And I know for you, it’s different. Obie, I know he’s like a dad to you,” and he barely refrained from commenting on that, rushing on. “And it’s hard and I get it so you…” He took a deep breath, forcing down all the doubts and old insecurities that were desperately trying to make themselves heard. “You do what you have to do.” He slid his hand across the table, picking up Tony’s. “You do what you have to do and I’ll…I’ll figure it out. Because I love you, and that’s not going to change no matter how many people know.” He squeezed Tony’s hand. “All that matters is that you know.”

Tony stared wordlessly at him, his expression as impossible to read as ever. Then he seemingly blinked back to himself. He swiped his thumb over Steve’s skin once, twice, and then pulled his hand back with a sigh.

“It’s…it’s not that easy,” he said, looking down at his lap. “It’s not that easy, Steve. I mean…I’m not _gay_.”

And Steve’s mouth fell open, his mind sent reeling because he couldn’t believe this was happening _again_ and he must have made a sound because Tony looked up suddenly, eyes wide.

“No, no, wait, it’s not like that, god I’m an _idiot_. Steve, that’s _not_ what I meant.” He cupped Steve’s face with one cheek and leaned over the table to press a kiss to Steve’s slack lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

Steve swallowed, and when he spoke again, it sounded like there were rocks in his throat. “So what did you mean?”

Tony settled back into his chair, rubbing at his eyes. “I just meant…” He dropped his hand, a weary expression on his face. “Look Steve, I’m still figuring all this stuff out. I mean, I tried reading about gender and sexuality once and I got so turned around I didn’t even know my own name by the end of it. But as far as I can tell, I think…I think I’m bi. And that’s…well, I mean this is New York City in the 21st century. It’s practically the in-thing to come out as gay right now. But bi? Not so much. Everyone just seems to think you haven’t made your mind up yet. And I can’t be seen as indecisive, Steve. I’m the head of one of the biggest corporations on the _planet_. People’s livelihoods rely on my decision-making skills and if they see that I can’t even decide where I like to stick my dick, then they’ll lose all faith in me as their leader.”

“So what, then?”

And perhaps Tony could hear the dread in Steve’s voice because he stared at him silently for a moment, a deep sadness in his eyes. He leaned forward again, brushing Steve’s bangs back from his forehead. “I suppose I could just tell them I’m Stevesexual,” he said wryly. “It’s probably the closest thing to the truth at this point.”

Steve pressed his fingers to his brow, massaging slightly and trying desperately to force his heart back down into his chest. “Tony…”

“What? I could go around telling everyone I’d Roger that, if you know what I me--“

“Tony!”

Tony stared wide-eyed at Steve’s shaking hand, still clenched tight in a fist on top of the table after he’d slammed it down. The table wavered, creaking ominously for a moment and they both watched it with held breath. It held though and Steve slumped back in his chair.

“I’m sorry,” he said tiredly. “I just…if you’re going to break up with me I’d appreciate it if you just did it already.”

“ _What?!_ ” Tony exclaimed. “Why the hell would I break up with you?! If you want to break up then you do it because there’s no way in hell that I--“

“Well, so, where are we going from here?” Steve said, cutting him off. “How are you planning to keep this a secret? Because in case you didn’t see, there are photos of us out there. Photos that aren’t exactly open to interpretation. You can’t just make this all go away, no matter how much money you throw at it. They’ll be following you." He waved his hand wildly between them. "They’ll be following _us_. Are you planning on building a secret tunnel between our apartments or something?”

Tony tapped a finger against his lip. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Although I think teleportation would be a cleaner solution…” He caught sight of Steve’s exasperated look. “Okay, sorry. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t have any answers for you, Steve. I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had that problem,” Steve muttered.

Tony gaped at him for a moment. And then he snorted. “No, you’re right.” He rubbed at his face, guffawing through his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so right.”

Steve watched, perplexed, as Tony started to giggle helplessly, his head buried in his arms as he slumped forward onto the table.

Which was a bit of a mistake. The poor table was clearly on its last legs and finally unable to take any more abuse, it collapsed to one side, sending Tony pitching forward to the ground on top of it.

Steve’s eyes widened and he dropped to the floor beside Tony, who was curled up on his injured side with his back to Steve, suddenly still. “Tony?” he said anxiously. Tony started shaking and Steve tugged tentatively at his shoulder, trying to peer at his face. Tony went willingly, rolling onto his back and Steve saw that the idiot was laughing again, silent guffaws shaking his entire frame.

Steve relaxed back onto his heels and sighed in relief. He watched silently as Tony’s giggles began to peter out, until finally he relaxed with a deep breath. He looked up at Steve.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “This has been a long day.” He shook his head slightly. “ _Fuck_ , this has been a long year.”

And god, Steve couldn’t agree more.

“But it’s also been the best fucking year of my life because of you and you know what? Fuck it. Fuck what people say because this is it, this is who I am and if everybody stayed in hiding how the hell is the world going to change?”

And just when Steve thought his heart couldn’t take any more Tony would go and say something like that and he’d have to relearn his potential for total, unadulterated exhilaration once again. “Are you sure?” he managed, his pulse racing. “I don’t want to pressure you into--“

His next words turned into a yelp as Tony snagged his arm and tugged him forward and he just barely managed to catch himself with a hand on the other side of Tony’s head. He peered down at the man pinned beneath him. Tony just raised an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking I was pressuring _you_ into things,” he said, moving his hand to cup Steve’s ass.

Steve rolled his eyes but dipped his head for a brief kiss. He carefully rearranged his weight so that he was lying next to Tony’s unhurt side, the remnants of the table somewhere beneath their tangled legs and rolled his head until it rested on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he breathed quietly after a moment.

“Oh don’t thank me yet,” Tony replied wryly. “They’ll come for you, you know. They’re going to want to know everything about you, from your mother’s name to what kind of underwear you wear.”

Steve picked up Tony’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “It’s a good thing I prefer going commando.” Tony snorted, probably at how _untrue_ that statement was. Steve actually thought it was terribly unhygienic, no matter how much of a turn-on for him it was when he found Tony doing it. “What about you though? I mean, are you really ready to deal with everything people are going to say? And what about Obie?”

Tony shrugged and Steve’s head rolled off with the motion. He rested his cheek on the floor instead, facing Tony, watching the determination slowly work its way onto his face as he spoke.

“People have been calling me a liar all my life. I want to do this. And I'll deaI with Obie because I don’t want you to ever feel…” Tony turned too, so their faces were less than an inch apart. “Steve, I don’t want you to ever tell me to do something that hurts you because you’ll ‘figure it out’. That’s not how this works. I mean god, if _I’d_ said something like that you would have--“

Steve tipped forward and pressed his lips against Tony’s, desperate to chase away the fierceness in his expression. “I know,” he said quietly when he pulled back. “I know, I’m sorry.” He ran the back of his free hand gently over Tony’s cheek, careful to avoid the bruises. “I’m sorry,” he breathed against Tony’s skin and Tony’s eyes fluttered close.

“You know,” Tony murmured after a moment, his eyes still shut tight. “If even one kid feels a little less confused than I did…a little more okay with who he or she is because of this whole thing…” His fingers tightened around Steve’s. “Well then I can’t say it’s not worth whatever they throw at me.”

Steve smiled softly, his heart overflowing with love and pride. Because Bruce was right -- together they brought out each other's strengths, stifled each other's weaknesses. Steve never would have imagined that he would have let his stubborn pride take a backseat they way it constantly did with Tony and Tony...well Steve would bet all the money he had that the man he first met all those months ago would never have made the decision to step up in front of the world with one less layer to hide behind.

"I love you," Steve murmured.

And when Tony murmured it back, Steve realized he'd never get tired of hearing those three words from this man and whatever else life seemed determined to beat them with, they could take it. Together.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hi.”

“Shut up.”

“I barely even said anything!” Steve protested, the words strangled as he tried to contain his laughter.

Tony tossed his wrench down onto the workbench with a huff. “I can _hear_ you laughing at me.”

“I can’t help it – you’re just so adorable.”

“I said shut up!”

The press conference had wrapped a few hours ago but Steve hadn’t been able to duck out of work (more likely away from his nosy co-workers) long enough to have a decent conversation. Not that this was much of a conversation.

Tony pushed off the stool and wandered over to the couch, collapsing on it with a sigh. He threw an arm over his eyes. “I can’t believe they called me adorable,” he grumbled.

“Well you _are_ a little cutie-patootie. I just want to pinch your cheeks.”

“Why do I put up with you again?”

“It’s because you _love_ me,” Steve teased. “You can’t take it back now.” Tony groaned.

The questions had all been pretty much what he’d been expecting, all stuff he and Pepper had gone over in preparation for the conference. He’d been ready for questions about his sexuality, his ability to lead, his decision to come out now and so on. But then one reporter (that _damn_ reporter with her stupid blond hair and her stupid knowing smirk) had arched an eyebrow at him and asked with a faux-curious lilt:

“Mr. Stark, those photos certainly seem to show a different side of you then we’ve seen. Would you say that…you’re in love?”

Tony, to his horror, had found himself _blushing_ (he thought he’d long since trained his body out of that particular trick). He’d tugged at his collar, his face heating up and managed to stammer out with a clear of his throat, “I…uh…I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

But the damage had been done and the public had immediately become enchanted with this new, almost _bashful_ version of the brash Tony Stark.

“You know,” Tony mumbled into the phone, “you work on a reputation, you carefully nurture it and cultivate and _one_ little question and it’s all gone.”

“Pepper says it’s been good for you. That it’s sorta turned this whole thing around.”

“And _when_ exactly did you speak to Pepper?”

“A little while ago. We text.”

“You _text?_ ”

“Yeah, sometimes. Listen, I’m about to get on the subway, I’ll call you later alright? You just gonna be home?”

“Yeah, Obie thinks it’s better if I stay away from the company for a little bit, create some distance.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Steve said, “Create distance between you and a company that’s named after you?”

“Well, technically it was named after my father but yeah, basically. He’s going to bat for me with the board; apparently they’re pretty pissed about the whole thing. I figured I’d make good use of my time and work on some new toys for them, get them back on my side.”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you doubting my toy-making abilities?”

“No, it’s not…look I have to go, I’m about to get cut off. We’ll talk later.”

Tony sat up, a tiny suspicion ticking at his mind. “Is this about Obie again?” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I know you guys got off to a rough start but he’s just—“

“No, I know. We’ll talk about this tonight, okay, I promise. This isn’t really the best place…”

Tony frowned. “Are there people taking photos of you? Because they shouldn’t be—“

“No to be honest people haven’t really put it together. I guess I’m generic looking enough that they don’t recognize me from the photos.” Tony didn’t get the chance to reassure Steve that he was _anything_ but generic looking, as Steve hurriedly added, “Okay I’m heading downstairs, talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” The call disconnected and Tony stared down at his tools, trying to make sense of what just happened.

\--

Steve slipped his phone back into his pocket and hitched his messenger bag up with a sigh. He needed to grow up. Tony couldn't just announce he was bisexual and sit back and expect everything to fall into place -- there were steps to be taken, aftermaths to deal with. And Obie, well obviously he didn't have experience with this _precise_ thing but he'd been running the company long before Tony got there. Since before Tony had been born probably. It only made sense to listen to his advice.

Still, there was something about the man that rubbed Steve the wrong way. Sure, he'd grudgingly agreed to let Tony do this (not that he had to _let_ Tony do anything). But there'd been something off about his reluctant capitulation on the matter, a strange glint in his eye that definitely didn't belong there as he huffed out in annoyance and threw his hands up at all the trouble this announcement was supposedly going to cause.

But Tony trusted him and if he thought it was better that Tony stay away from the company for awhile, then sure, Steve could buy that. And if he thought Tony should stay away from _Steve_ for awhile, well Steve just had to remind himself that this wasn’t at all like before. Tony loved him and he loved Tony and a few days in their own apartments didn’t negate any of that. They had, after all, managed entirely different cities before. This would be a piece of cake.

But still, there was a deep sense of foreboding in his chest, a certain _wrongness_ about the whole thing, and it seemed that no amount of rational reasoning was going to shake it away.

***

Later that night, as Tony was buried elbow-deep in his code, his cellphone began to vibrate in his pocket. Which wasn’t so unusual – he was, after all, a busy man in all aspects of his life. What _was_ unusual was that the call wasn’t being routed through JARVIS, as was the norm whenever he was working in his workshop. Making a note of it in the back of his mind, he glanced at the Caller ID and tipped his head back as he answered the call.

“Well if it isn’t Sergeant James Rhodes.”

“Tony, great, listen—“

“This is such an honor, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it!“

“Tony, I need to tell you some—“

“I mean, I don’t really feel like I’ve _earned_ this, yanno? Like maybe I—“

“Tony, will you _listen to me?”_

“I don’t really know why I should. I don’t know if you noticed but I sorta had a major crisis over here. Like stock-price-dooming, Pepper-shrieking kinda crisis. You know how I hate when she shrieks. And where were you through it all, my buddy, my pal, my guiding star?”

“Look, I know, I’m sorry okay? But can you just forget all that for now because—“

“ _Forget_ all that? Really, Rhodey? You of all people—“

“For god’s _sake_ Tony, I’m trying to tell you something important here. There’s stuff that’s been going on for awhile now and I think Obie is…”

Tony tuned out the rest of what Rhodey was saying (hissing angrily at this point, really) as he caught sight of the man on the other side of the glass.

“Uh huh, listen Rhodey, I have to go, Obie’s here. And he’s brought pizza, so you know, sorta trumps everything else.”

“Obie’s _there_? Don’t…dammit Tony have you even heard a word I’ve said?! Don’t—“

Tony ended the call and tossed his phone on the workbench behind him as the glass doors slid open.

“Tony.” Obie nodded, glancing around the mess of the workshop. “I see you’ve been busy. Trying to keep yourself distracted from all this, hmm?”

Tony shrugged. “Eh, it’s not been too bad actually. I mean, stock prices didn’t take a big as hit as we were expecting right? And it’ll come back once this all blows over.” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the workbench behind him. “How’re things with the board though? You win ‘em over yet?”

There was a flicker of something over Obie’s face but Tony had never really been that good at reading the man, despite how close they’d become since his parents’ deaths.

“Well, you know how it is with these old kooks. They’re a conservative bunch. But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here for the exact opposite, actually. I think you need to get away for awhile, just get some space from everything that’s been happening.” He stepped forward, peering down at Tony. “What’s say we go for a drive? I brought dinner.”

Tony glanced at the mess on his workbench and then back up at the box Obie was waving under his nose, the smell of a fresh, hot pie shooting straight to his empty stomach. “Well, what can I say, you drive a hard bargain.” He stood up, stretching slightly and feeling his back crack with it. He must have been sitting there longer than he’d thought.

“What time is it anyway?” he asked Obie as they went up through Tony’s private exit. There was a sleek back car waiting right outside, the engine idling quietly.

“Close to midnight,” Obie answered, ushering Tony into the car.

Tony blinked. Last time he’d checked, it was just after eight and he was telling Steve he’d call him back when he wasn’t entrenched in the middle of a highly complex debugging process. Fuck, he really hoped Steve didn’t think he was blowing him off after their weird whatever-that-was earlier.

He patted at his pockets but between his ratty t-shirt and threadbare jeans, there weren’t really many places his cellphone could be hiding.

“Shit, forgot my phone,” he muttered. He glanced up at Obie, who was just closing the car door behind him. “I’m just gonna go grab it…”

Obie stopped him climbing out the other side with a gentle hand on his wrist. “Come on, Tony. The whole point was to get away, wasn’t it? It’s probably better that you don’t have your cellphone.”

He must have still looked unconvinced because Obie sighed and added, “It’s just going to be an hour or so. If anything comes up, I’ve got mine, alright? Now why don’t you just relax and have a drink.”

Tony eyed the bottle of expensive scotch that Obie had produced seemingly out of nowhere. It was a 24-year, single-malt, just the way he liked it. And god it had been awhile since he’d had a good drink. He’d come to hate the loss of control that drinking brought and of course, had _always_ hated the torture it brought the morning after, but the one thing Tony didn’t think he’d ever actually lose a taste for was alcohol itself – the smoky burn of well-aged whiskey as it slid neatly down his throat and warmed him from the inside out, the soothing rattle of ice cubes against the thick glass when it was too hot outside for ‘neat’, the comfortable, tangy smell that filled the air as he pulled the cork out of a particularly well-crafted bottle.

Alcohol wasn’t the problem, no. Tony’s problem was control. But here, with Obie in the back of a luxurious car and a pleasant feeling humming beneath his bones that he’d only recently come to name as contentment, he felt safe enough to indulge in a little hedonism.

What the hell. As much as he liked to pretend, the world did not, in fact, revolve around Tony Stark. An hour without his phone wouldn’t be the end of everything. Besides, it wasn’t like he could talk to Steve about Obie while he was sitting next to the guy.

He shot off a quick text to Steve from Obie’s phone with the message that he’d call him tomorrow and traded the phone for a glass almost filled to the brim with the amber liquid. As the car drove off, he took a deep sip and leaned back bonelessly against the cushiony leather, letting the stresses from the past couple of weeks just fall out of him.

Obie was right. With everything that had been going on, the nonstop action since the summer had started, it was easy to get swept away. He’d needed this, a little time where he could find his head again.

He took another sip of his drink and let his head thunk back against the seat, then rolled it lazily to glance at Obie. “Thanks,” he murmured, already feeling the extra gravitational effect alcohol seemed to have on him.

Obie smiled at him, sharp and full of teeth, and replied, “Oh, don’t thank me yet.” The words sounded like they were coming from very far away and Tony blinked, trying to figure out when Obie had turned into a triplet. He felt the glass disappear from his hand with a tug. A voice in his head was whining that there were still a good two sips in there but he couldn’t find the strength to keep his grip.

“Maybe you should take a nap,” he heard from somewhere, and the words echoed round his head like it was completely hollow, like his brain had been sucked out with a vacuum cleaner and just left dust and cobwebs behind and that would make inventing very difficult now wouldn’t it?

The last thing Tony remembered was thinking that he didn’t even get to have a slice of that damn pizza.

And then the world went black.

***

Steve knew Tony had superhuman abilities for avoidance, but he was still constantly stumped by it.

Tony had _said_ he’d call him back. The least he could do was follow through, _then_ make his excuses to get out of the conversation. If there was one thing Steve hated it was impoliteness.

And okay, yeah, Tony’s total obliviousness to certain social niceties could be endearing – at times almost refreshing, like his impatience for inane small talk – but times like this it just made Steve want to strangle him.

If he was going to blow Steve off with a text – from a random number no less – the least he could do was send it at a decent hour instead of making Steve wait around forever like an idiot.

Thoroughly disgruntled, he tossed his cellphone onto the kitchen counter with a clatter.

“Everything alright?” Bruce asked from across the counter, eyebrow raised.

“Tony is _such_ an ass,” Steve gritted out.

Bruce’s second eyebrow joined his first. “Okay…does this have anything to do with you looking more and more like a spring coiled too tight all through dinner?”

Steve rubbed at his forehead. This evening at home was supposed to be about _Bruce_ , not more of the Steve and Tony Show. “God Bruce, I’m sorry. There’s no escaping it for you, is there?”

“Hey, no, stop apologizing. You guys just _came out_ to the world. I wasn’t really expecting everything to be wrapped up with a bow overnight.”

Maybe that was the problem. Steve hated to admit it but he supposed a part of him had thought that once Tony stopped hiding their relationship, everything would be okay. All their problems would magically disappear and they could pull a Grease and fly off into the sunset in one of Tony’s many restored convertibles.

Never mind the millions of issues that came with being in a real, adult relationship, let alone one in the public eye. Never mind that Steve still wasn’t sure if he could be everything that someone as worldly and experienced as Tony deserved, never mind the hints that Tony was struggling with drinking, never mind that someone might be trying to _kill_ Tony. His boyfriend wasn’t ashamed of him and that was all that mattered.

Steve really was an idiot sometimes.

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” he said resignedly.

“You sure? I really don’t mind talking about it if you want…”

Steve felt the corner of his mouth tick up a little bit, suddenly so grateful for Peggy cutting relentlessly through the mysterious fog Bruce liked to project and dragging him into Steve’s life.

“You’re a great friend, Bruce,” he murmured. He rounded the counter and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Don’t ever let me forget that.”

“I’ll write it on the fridge, shall I?” Bruce replied dryly.

Steve chuckled, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Steve.”

***

“Dammit Barton, you moron. Why the hell would you switch on your light? Your eyes _just_ finished adjusting to the dark!”

“I thought the point of this was to gauge strengths and weaknesses,” Clint shouted back from across the large training room. “Not to yell at me about how idiotic I am.”

“Same damn thing,” Natasha snarled.

Before Clint could respond to _that_ Natasha whirled away and pressed her hand to her ear.

Clint had scarcely been here a week but it had been long enough to know that meant that _big shit_ was going down. He swung down from his perch and landed with a thump behind her, just in time to hear her murmur, “Rhodes did _what?_ ”

Even through her clearly pressing conversation, Natasha still managed to glare at him disapprovingly for his loud landing. “So where’s Stark now?” she continued, not taking her eyes off Clint.

Clint’s own eyes widened and he stepped closer. Natasha’s lip curled up and he stopped in his tracks, but cocked his head and continued to listen intently.

“Right,” she finished tersely, and began striding towards the exit.

Clint followed behind, hot on her heels. “What’s going on?” he asked anxiously. “Did something happen to Tony?”

“This is none of your concern, Barton,” she snapped over her shoulder. “Go home.”

“None of my _concern?_ Tony is my _friend. How_ is this not my concern?”

“You’re a newbie.”

“I know Tony better than you. I can help!”

“You’re not ready for this.”

“You know I’m just gonna follow you anyway!”

Natasha paused and Clint hurried up to her. She glared at him for a moment, then said tersely, “You do exactly as I say. Got it? _Exactly_.”

Clint nodded sharply, picking up his case as he followed her swiftly out of the room.

***

The shift to consciousness was slow, the transition like a slide down a gradient of greys instead of the sudden shift from black to white that usually made Tony’s morning (or more often, afternoon). His whole life, Tony had been the kind of person who was asleep, then awake. Granted, his awake before coffee was a bleary haze but there was still a clear distinction between the two.

This, this was new. This blurry landscape where sounds and smells from the real world mixed with the images behind his eyes, his dreams starting and stalling in bursts as if his brain was trying its level best to keep him guessing on his reality. If it was meant to be some sort of defense mechanism against potential mental trauma, it was failing spectacularly.

He could feel fingers stroking through his hair and he clutched at the sensation, using it to anchor him to what was surely the world he was supposed to be living in, not the one that floated in flashes behind his eyelids.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open and he blinked a few times to bring the world back into focus.

“Ah. Finally back with us I see.”

Tony tilted his head weakly to the side to find Obie peering down at him, an indulgent expression on his face as he continues to run his hands over Tony’s hair.

“Tony, Tony, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t find the strength to anything but blink blearily back. He shifted, realizing vaguely as his brain came back online that he was still sitting in the back of Obie’s car. And that his arms and legs were now tightly bound.

Fuck, Steve was going to be so pissed at him.

“It didn’t have to be like this, you know? But you just can’t seem to do anything you’re supposed to. You had to come back to take over the company. And you know, I might have let it be. Unlike your father, you saw the merit in sticking to what you do best and letting me do what I do best.”

Obie sighed, his chest heaving with the strength of it. “But you couldn’t just leave things be, could you? You had to start poking around in places you weren’t meant to.”

Tony tried to ask Obie what the hell he was talking about but his mouth refused to form the words. His whole body felt limp, his muscles turned to jelly so that any attempt at movement felt like he was pushing through the thickest treacle.

“If you’d just died in that car crash, this would have been so much easier. I guess that’s what I get for trying to use the same trick twice. And now you’ve suddenly decided to start acting like an adult?” He shook his head. “Even the board didn’t want to let you go. I don’t know how you do it. You always manage to land on your feet, don’t you?”

He fisted his hand, tightening his grip painfully around Tony’s hair and wrenched his head to the side, forcing Tony’s gaze out the window. He must have been out awhile because New York City was nowhere to be found. Instead, it seemed like they were winding their way up a deserted mountain road, driving treacherously close to the edge. And it was a _long_ way down.

“Poor Tony Stark. Didn’t learn his lesson from the last accident and decided to push his luck.” Obie smirked. “What can I say, there’s a certain poetry to the Stark line ending this way that I really didn’t want to let go of.” He pushed Tony’s head downwards, so that Tony could see exactly how long of a dive he’d be taking. “Somehow I think even you can’t land on your feet this time.”

He released his grip and Tony’s head thunked back against the seat. “Look at you.” Obie pressed on his bruised ribs and Tony couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re pathetic. I don’t know why I ever considered you a threat.” He leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Don’t worry. This will all be over soon.”

Tony’s gaze flickered downwards towards his watch. Obie spotted the movement and gleefully said, “You can forget about whatever tracker or gadget you have in there.” He held up a tiny black device. “Controlled EMP. One of your designs, I believe.” His lips curled up maliciously. “Nobody’s coming for you.”

The car lurched suddenly and Obie rocked back in his seat. “What was that?” he snapped out to the driver.

“Rock. Sorry, sir, the road’s a little rough out here.” Obie glared at the back of the driver’s head as the car continued to bump and grind over the uneven surface.

Tony wiggled his toes experimentally, watching Obie out of the corner of his eye. He could feel a little control returning to his body, his muscles responding more fluidly to his instructions. There was a bitter taste under his tongue as his body pumped adrenaline through his veins, gearing up for a fight and sending a clear ‘fuck you’ to flight. His eyes flittered over the interior, trying to find something he could use to help him out of this. If Obie really had used the EMP, any immediate chance of calling for help was out of the question. He’d have to incapacitate both Obie and the driver long enough to get to some sort of communication device.

He ran through his limited options over and over, keeping his brain whirring so that it wouldn’t have a chance to process anything Obie had just said (because fuck once he started down that path he’d practically be doing Obie’s job for him).

The next time they hit a bump, Tony forced himself to flop forward, falling out of the seat. He lay curled up there between the two front seats, his body hunched over and his back to Obie. Behind him, he heard Obie huff impatiently and felt two large hands (wrong hands wrong hands) settle on his shoulder and pull him back up and suddenly, with everything he had, Tony twisted, lifted his arms and smashed the bottle in his hands right over Obie’s head.

For one surreal moment, Tony found himself mourning the loss of the scotch, watching as the liquid dripped slowly down the shattered remains of the bottle and into the carpet. Then the car swerved and he blinked back to himself in time to see the driver shoot the backseat a wide-eyed glance. Quick as a blink, Tony thrust himself forward once again and hooked his bound hands over the driver’s head, tightening around his neck from behind. (Probably not his best plan. The struggling man was going to drive them straight off the cliff any moment now).

“Stop the car!” he demanded. The driver continued to flail, one hand scratching fruitlessly at Tony’s cast and Tony jerked his arms, ignoring the pain shooting up and down his fractured wrist. “Fucking brake, you idiot, before you kill us all!”

Sensing this wasn’t going to happen the way he planned, Tony pulled as much as possible, trapping the man between his arm and the seat, and just held on. The struggles petered out but the car, he realized, was now accelerating and a quick glance through the windshield told him this was going to go very bad very fast.

He clambered through the seats to the front, ignoring the shards of glass pricking him through his jeans. They’d long left the road behind and were now thumping jerkily over the bumpy surface, the edge coming up to meet them far too quickly. He frantically leaned over the driver and opened the door, and with a little pushing and kicking, managed to shove the driver out. He tried not to think too much about car speed and survival rates as he watched the man tumble to the ground.

Without the weight of the driver’s foot on the pedal, the car immediately began to slow but it wasn’t enough. Tony jerked the wheel with one hand and leaned down and pressed on the brake with the other and the car immediately went into a wild spin that finally ended with a violent crash into a nearby boulder.

As the car hissed and settled, Tony slowly brought his head up over the steering wheel and peered out the passenger window. His eyes widened as he saw how near to the edge they’d stopped and he gave himself a moment to appreciate just how close to Obie’s dream of a fiery crash he’d come.

Then he decided he really needed to figure out where the fuck he was.

***

The shrill tones of his cellphone jolted Steve out of sleep and he groaned as he flailed a hand out, reaching blindly for it. He answered without a glance at the number on the screen and blearily murmured, “Hello?”

He could hear some chatter in the background but there was no immediate answer. “Tony, is that you?” Steve peered at the clock through one cracked eye. “When you said you’d call tomorrow, I thought you meant a more human hour. Are you out som—“

“Steve.”

“Rhodes?” Steve immediately sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Wh—“ He cleared his throat. “What’s going on?” The foreboding that had been following him around all day suddenly came slamming back into him full-force and something in his stomach jumped. “Did something happen to Tony?”

“I…we’re not sure,” Rhodes hedged. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“He sent me a text a few hours ago.” Steve replied. “What’s going on?” he repeated anxiously.

“Look, Steve, we don’t really know for sure at this point, I mean we’re basically flying blind here so you can’t really—“

“Rhod—James. Please.” He swallowed. “Just tell me.”

He heard Rhodes heave a huge sigh. “We think Tony’s gone missing.”

Steve’s heart stopped. He could swear, there was actually a good five seconds when it just completely ceased to function.

“Steve?” Steve blinked. “Steve? You still there?”

“Yeah I…I’m here.” He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at one with the heel of his hand. “What…why do you say he’s missing?”

“I’m not sure how much I can tell you, let alone how much I can say over the phone. I…” Rhodes hesitated. “I think…maybe you should come down here. Especially if you were the last person Tony’s been in contact with.”

Steve was already up and tugging on a pair of pants but he paused at that last statement. “Is he…” Steve bit his lip. He probably shouldn’t ask a question he didn’t want to know the answer to just yet. “Rhodes,” he said instead. “This is…this is pretty serious, right?”

There was a long pause. “Just…just get here, Steve. As fast as you can.”

***

Between Obie’s cellphone, the anti-theft devices installed in the car, and the car battery, Tony had managed to jerry-rig a device that should (hopefully) transmit a rough distress signal to anyone looking. Obie had said that it was a controlled EMP. Which meant he’d probably set the range low enough to only take out any electronics on Tony, with minimal temporary effects on anything else.

He stood up, dusting off his hands on the side of his jeans and stared at the sky. The sun was beginning to rise, tinging the inky dark-blue a faint pink at the bottom. At least the light would make it easier for him to be found.

He was leaning over the hood of the car, trying to figure out if it was worth getting it going when he felt the cold press of metal against the back of his neck, the click of a gun being cocked unmistakable to someone who’d been designing weapons half his life. He froze.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

Obie tangled a hand in the collar of Tony’s shirt and jerked, tugging him away from the car. He shoved hard and Tony fell to the dirt with a cry, his instinctive reaction to throw both his injured and uninjured arms out to catch himself costing him dearly.

Tony twisted his neck and glared up at Obie. “You know, this look sorta works for you. Blood dripping down the side of your head, crazed, maniacal thing you’ve got going on in your eyes. You should rock it more oft—oof.”

Obie knew right where to hit him, right where every sore spot from his accident was (of course he did, he’d seen the medical files). “You never did learn when to shut up.” He kicked him again and Tony couldn’t help but curl up onto his side. “I kept telling Howard – a couple of beatings would have done a world of good for a little snot like you. But the man was too soft and look how you turned out.”

Despite everything, Tony snorted. ‘Soft’ was _not_ something he ever heard associated with Howard. “You know,” Tony started, voice shaky through his shuddering breaths, “for all that you talk about him, I’m starting you think you had a little bit of a crush on dear ol’ dad.” He coughed, tasting hints of copper. “Is that why you killed him? If you can’t have him no one can?”

Obie (Stane, Stane was his name) stepped right up to Tony, looming over him. “I _killed_ him because he was a spineless idiot who didn’t know what was best for the company.”

“And what is that?”

Stane shook his head with a laugh. “Are you really going to keep playing the innocent card, Tony? It’s getting a little tired, don’t you think?” Tony continued to look blank and Obie squatted down next to him, eyebrow raised. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? That useless _security_ of yours didn’t tell you anything? I suppose that makes sense.”

He traced the gun down Tony’s side, the touch light, ghosting. “You see Tony, there is no right and wrong when it comes to war. There’s just power, and the people who own it.” He held the gun up to his face, peering intently at it. “And that’s what your ‘dear ol’ dad’ never understood. Because people will give anything for a little more power.”

Obie rested the end of the gun against Tony’s cheek. “Now. How about we—“

The faint whirr of an approaching chopper tore Obie’s attention away from Tony; his head darted up with a curse, his eyes scanning the skies. Tony gritted his teeth and, with everything he had, swung his arm up and knocked the gun out of Obie’s hand.

It skidded away in the dirt, coming to rest a few feet from where he lay but before Obie could turn to pick it up, Tony pushed forward and bowled the other man over.

It was lucky Obie was already perched in a precarious position to begin with because there was no way Tony would have been able to topple the rather more significant man otherwise. For a moment, Obie was unreactive, taken by surprise and Tony pressed his advantage while he could, punching and kicking every inch of Obie he could reach. The surprise didn’t last long and soon Obie was fighting back, the two men writhing and rolling gracelessly around as they pushed and tugged, each trying to keep the other away from the only weapon within distance.

All of a sudden Obie screamed and Tony blinked. There was something wet dripping onto his skin and he looked down only to find a lot of red. A long stick (was that a fucking _arrow?_ ) was coming out of Obie’s right flank and Obie was clutching at it, moaning. Tony quickly kicked up, pushing the other man off, and scrambled to his feet. With a glance at Obie to make sure he was pretty well incapacitated, he limped to the edge off the cliff and shaded his eyes with one bloodied hand, trying to spot the helicopter that had been hovering over them for a couple of minutes now.

“Hey!” he yelled, waving his arms. “What the _hell_ does a guy have to do to get a ride?”

He sincerely hoped that the people on the chopper were on his side and hadn’t accidentally shot Obie while aiming for him (on the plus side, it meant that if the people on the chopper really were his enemies, they clearly weren’t all the competent). Well, it’s not like he had many choices left anyway, he realized, as the chopper began to approach. The car didn’t seem all that promising and there was no way his body was up for any strenuous physical activity.

What the fuck were they doing? Were they here just to cheer him on and interfere at random intervals? Had he somehow ended up in the Hunger Games without noticing?

“For thirty years I’ve been holding you and your useless father up!” Tony whirled around just in time to find Obie staggering towards him. “I built this company up from nothing! Nothing’s gonna stand in my way…” He gritted his teeth and with a last push of strength, ran full-tilt at Tony. “Least of all, YOU!”

But the wound had clearly left him too weak and Tony managed to shove him off, sending Obie tumbling to the ground.

And over the edge of the cliff.

“No!” Tony yelled, the word coming out of his mouth unbidden. On autopilot now, he fell to his knees and scrambled forward to peer over the edge. His breath caught as he spotted Obie just a half-foot down, clutching tightly at the rocks and his feet dangling freely. Tony dropped to his stomach and stretched one hand downwards, tamping down on the part of his head that was screaming at him that he was an idiot, that he knew how this movie ended and he should just dust off his hands and say good riddance.

Twenty-two years of conditioning was hard to shake off.

Obie managed to find a foothold as Tony’s hands clamped around his wrists. “I’ve got you,” Tony called. “Just push up.”

Obie tilted his head back and there was a gleam in his eye and time froze because Tony knew, he just _knew_ with a certainty he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d been handed a circuit board, what was going to happen next. A slow smile crept over Obie’s face, sharp and vicious and grotesquely out of place. “Soft,” he murmured, the word somehow making it to Tony’s brain even through the roaring in his ears. “Just like your father.”

And he wrapped his fingers around Tony’s wrists, braced one foot against the cliff-face, and pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a trained engineer, I am ashamed by how handwavey all the gadgetry in this is but if I tried to make it actual science, this would never get updated so just squint a little and pretend it all makes sense.


	12. Chapter 12

_Beep_

The sound was faint, just a soft _ting_ right on the edge of his hearing. Which was weird because after Tony had thrown his last cellphone at the wall to shut the blaring alarm up,

_Beep_

Pepper had gotten him one of those clocks that ran away whenever you tried to snooze it. And then yelled at him when he’d modified it and bought him another.

_Beep_

Either way, that torturous thing definitely liked to make itself heard. And this noise, this alarm or whatever it was,

_Beep_

was curiously shy and thus probably _not_ a device of Pepper’s choosing. (But god did it have her persistence).

_Beep_

Sufficiently annoyed, Tony forced his eyes open, finding it even harder than he usually did.

_Beep_

Must have been a good night.

When he finally managed to keep his lids open instead of them fluttering like a useless moth, all he saw was white.

Well. It must have been a _really_ good night.

“Armmmhrhrmm,” is what came out when he tried to the room at large if he had, in fact, finally died.

“Tony?”

Tony let his head flop to one side and blinked until the dark blob resolved into the reassuring figure of his best friend. He couldn’t be dead then, Rhodey never’d let him do something dumb enough to kill them _both_. (That time sophomore year didn’t count).

“Herghh,” was his articulate reply.

“Here, drink this,” Rhodey said, holding out a pink plastic cup, a bendy white straw sticking out the top. Tony lifted his head the barest minimum off the soft pillow and caught the straw between his lips, chugging gratefully as the cool water soothed his throat. He drank until the sound of slurping filled the room and Rhodey pulled the glass away.

“Thanks,” Tony said hoarsely, letting his head drop back against the pillow. God, his entire body was _throbbing_.

“I hope you’re not planning on making this a habit,” Rhodey said, the words coming out casual, easy.

Tony paused in taking mental stock of the points of his body that hurt the most. Rhodey was playing with the straw, flicking the top of it so swiveled back and forth, his gaze focused so intently on it that it looked like he was actively calculating the optimal force needed to rotate the straw all around the edge of the cup.

“I mean, twice in under two weeks isn’t exactly habit-forming but you _do_ have an addictive personality.” Rhodey lifted his head and glanced pointedly around the room. “I guess the décor is kinda nice. Soothing.” He paused. “Stark.”

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Rhodey eyes snapped towards Tony’s. “Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Okay, but it wasn’t my fault this time! At least…” he huffed, trying to lever himself into a sitting position, “not completely…”

Rhodey just raised an eyebrow, entirely unconvinced. He did, however, lean forward and hit a button that began to raise the upper half of the bed. God these things were _painfully_ slow. “One of these days we’re going to have to talk about the ratio of things I say to you and the things you actually hear.”

“Huh?” Rhodey glared at him and Tony hurriedly added, “kiddin…ow!” Apparently raising his hands in a defensive gesture was a thing he shouldn’t be doing.

“Alright, calm down. Steve will kill me if you injure yourself even more.”

Tony glanced around the room and opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Peggy forced him home at least for a shower,” Rhodey said, answering the unasked (and _why_ couldn’t he just ask it? They’d gone _public,_ for god’s sake) question, “and probably some food if she can force it down his throat. Which is highly likely knowing Peggy. Still, Steve’s not going to be happy he missed you waking up. Doctor said it wasn’t going to happen for another few hours at least.”

Tony squinted at Rhodey. There seemed to be an unvoiced “…if at all” at the end there and Rhodey’s sour expression definitely didn’t counter that. “What happened?” he asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Tony scrunched up his forehead. “I remember Obie coming by with pizza…and you yelling at me…and…” his eyes widened as the pieces suddenly came flooding back, his brain filling with images of Obie and a gun, of desperate fear battling with violent rage, of words said that Tony wanted desperately to unhear.

“I guess you do remember,” Rhodey said quietly, seeing on Tony’s face something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to articulate. “Tony…”

“Where’s Ob--Stane. Stane. Where’s Stane?”

Rhodey looked pained. “He didn’t…he didn’t make it.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay,” he murmured. At least, he thought he did. The word sounded very far away.

_Beep._

(Okay).

_Beep._

He rolled over onto his side, turning his back to Rhodey.

_Beep._

“Tone? Tony, hey, calm down.”

_Beep._

“Tone, you gotta calm down.” _Beep._ “Just breathe.” _Beep._ “Come on To-“ _Beep._ “-ne, just breathe, in--“ _Beep_. “Out. You’re--“ _Beep._ “safe now. You’re safe.” _Beep._ “That’s it. Just breathe.” _Beep._ “There we go, nice and easy.” _Beep._

There was a warm hand rubbing at his back. Tony forced his eyes open again and turned ( _ow_ ) onto his back, causing the hand to fall away.

_Beep._

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to realign his world (in too many ways to count).

_Be--_

Goddamn that noise was annoying. They should really find a better way of monitoring heart rates. Tony ignored Rhodey’s click of disapproval and tossed the wires he’d yanked off his chest to one side. Rhodey knew him too well though and before he could figure out a way to maneuver off the bed without causing excruciating pain to shoot up and down his body, Rhodey had him pinned with both a hand to the shoulder and a withering stare. “Nope. Not going anywhere.”

Tony glared right back. “I’m not--“

The door opened and they both turned. “Hey, you’re awake!” Clint’s sharp eye instantly took in the minor struggle occurring on the bed. “Aaaaaand of course you’re trying to leave already.” He grabbed the nearby visitor’s chair and spun it around, perching on it with his arms folded on the back. “You are so damn predictable Stark.”

Tony redirected his glare towards Clint. “Like you would be doing any differently. You’d be halfway back to Brooklyn by now.”

“True. But then again, I don’t have an over-protective boyfriend who would kill me if he showed up to see my injured ass in the hospital and I wasn’t there.”

Tony shoved down the thought of Steve for now because really his brain could only take so much guilt and overanalyzing.

“Speaking of, has anybody told him Tony’s awake?” Rhodey asked.

Clint shook his head. “Natasha’s keeping staff away unless it’s an emergency. Total lockdown.”

“I’ll go put the word out,” Rhodey said. “Clint, try not to start any wrestling matches while I’m gone.”

Clint waved him off. Once the door closed again, he dropped his chin to his arms and stared at Tony.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just…” Clint shook his head with a huff. “That was some crazy shit yo.”

“Well put,” Tony responded dryly.

“No but really! I mean, Natasha jumped out of a freaking helicopter and just, like, snagged your ass! How does that even work?!”

“Don’t really know, considering I was pretty much unconscious at the time.”

“Oh. Right.”

The silence between them was far too awkward.

“You were there?” Tony finally asked, words soft.

“Yeah I was--” Clint cut himself off leaving Tony wondering what the hell he was going to say. “I was in the chopper.”

“So what happened? Last thing I remember was me and Obie on the edge of the cliff and my life playing out like a bad Western.”

Clint perked up again, taking Tony’s tacit permission to regain his excitement about Natasha’s badassness. “Well like I said – you and Obie both went over and Natasha I guess had known it was going to happen to at least one of you so she was all rigged up with this cool bungee thing. And the minute you fell she just went. Don’t even ask me to try and figure out the physics of it all but I’m pretty sure you were already more than enough weight for her to handle.”

Right. (The fall, the sick wrench as Obie had tugged and he’d plummeted into freefall, the roaring air, the spike of total terror.

The fade into blackness).

“Yeah, so it turns out you had some internal bleeding. Stane turned bruised ribs into broken ribs and one pierced your lung. Doctors had to go in and play a bit of Operation.”

“That’s not how you play Operation,” Tony replied absently. He was having trouble breathing again. He bit down on his lip, trying to force the panic back down. (Safe, safe. He was safe.) He needed to get out of here.

“You know, I’ve never actually played,” Clint said as the door opened again.

“Welcome back Stark.” Tony’s head jerked up. “Ready to be debriefed?”

Tony huffed out a harsh breath, letting the jolt of pain through his chest jerk him back to earth. “Good to see you too, Coulson,” he snarked, albeit a little breathlessly. Coulson politely pretended not to notice. “I’m feeling great, thanks for asking.”

“The doctor who’ll be coming in in about 10 minutes will ask how you’re feeling. We’re here to talk to you about what happened.”

Tony hadn’t even seen Natasha slide in behind Coulson but there she was, leaning against the door that she’d shut at some point without making a noise.

“I hope you’re going to talk about my awesome super secret spy skills.”

“For the last time Barton, you’re not a super secret spy. Now get out.”

“Yes, sir, super secret spy boss sir.” He saluted smartly and left, shooting Tony one last reassuring grin.

Tony did not feel reassured. He watched Coulson settle into a chair with a thin manila folder in his lap, resisting the urge to ask for Steve. He could do this, he didn’t need anybody holding his hand. He was fine. Totally fine.

(Safe).

“We need to know what you and Stane spoke about,” Coulson said.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like you already knew about Ob- Stane?” He latched on to the sudden rising anger. _Anger_ he could deal with. “That you _knew_ all along and didn’t tell me.” The words came out in a hiss, half in fury and half in pain as the air moved through his torn up lung.

“We had our suspicions. We couldn’t confirm or--“

“That’s _bullshit,_ ” Tony spat. “You should have _told_ me. I could have done something, I could have--“

“You could have what? Do you even know what he’s been doing? You just have a part of the picture, Stark.”

“So paint me the rest,” Tony snapped.

Coulson eyed him for a moment, silent.

“We work for a special branch of the government known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” At Tony’s raised eyebrow, he added, “SHIELD.”

“Got that, thanks. So the government was fucking spying on me this whole fucking time? You’ve been SI’s security company for _years._ What the hell could Obie have been doing that even warranted that much attention?”

“We’ve actually only been monitoring SI for a short while. We took over your security company about a year ago when we gained reliable intel that weapons were being sold under the table to terrorist organizations.” Tony’s mouth snapped shut. “We weren’t sure how high up it went so we investigated everybody, including you. Natasha’s report cleared you almost immediately but we realized pretty quickly that that meant you were in significant danger.”

“So you knew I was innocent, you just didn’t trust me enough to tell me that.” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Is this what Rhodey was doing back here? Was he here to _babysit_ me? Poor, naïve Tony, doesn’t even know when his only family is fucking him over and laughing in his face?”

“Stark--“

“What, were you just waiting for me to fuck up so you would have an excuse to be rid of me and could stop wasting your time?”

“Stark, listen--“

“No, I’ve had enough listening.” He struggled upwards, pulling against the tubes that seemed to be going every which way. “Enough lying, enough keeping secrets. _Enough._ ”

“Stark, you need to calm down,” he heard Natasha warn. “You’re in no condition to move, you’re just doing yourself more damage.”

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m leaving, I just need to get _out_ …” Fuck, why couldn’t the fucking room just _stay_ _straight_?

“What’s going on, what’s all this yelling?” When had Rhodey come back in the room? “Tony, what the hell are you doing?”

“No, I can’t…I need to get away, I need to go _home_.”

“Couldn’t this have waited?” Rhodey snapped over his shoulder even as he struggled to keep Tony in place without hitting one of his many injuries. “Tony, _stop!_ ”

“LET ME GO!” Tony roared. That was a mistake. The hacking that came after had it doubling over completely on the bed and it rocked his sore frame. God he wanted to _scream_ , it was so painful, but all he could do was cough pathetically.

“Tony, just calm down. _Please_.” Rhodey’s hand was on his back again, rubbing back and forth, back and forth. Tony latched onto the sensation and let his mind follow the motion.

He eventually went limp, letting Rhodey guide his body back into bed and regaining enough awareness to notice that Coulson and Natasha had disappeared.

“Thank you,” Rhodey murmured. He untangled the chest tube going in to Tony’s left side from the IV going into his wrist. “Maybe we should up your morphine. I’m guessing you’re in pretty significant pain.” Tony didn’t answer. “Tony--“

“I just want to sleep,” Tony rasped out. He could feel Rhodey’s eyes on him but he resolutely kept his gaze on the ceiling.

“Okay.” Rhodey sounded uncertain. It wasn’t a good sound on him. “Sure. Rest will be good.” Still receiving no response, Rhodey left.

Tony waited until he heard the door click shut before letting out a sob.

***

“--can’t _believe_ I wasn’t here, I should have never let you convince me to leave.”

“Steve, you’ve been sitting here for _three days_.”

“And Tony’s been lying here unconscious for all three of them, his life on the line.”

“Steve--“

“Shh, I’m going to open the door.”

“Oh, _now_ you’re worried about waking him up. It was fine when you were yelling a second ago--“

“Shh!”

“Alright, alright. I’m going to go find Rhodes.”

A sliver of light fell on the floor as the door creaked open. “Tony?” Steve whispered into the dark.

“I’m awake,” Tony rasped back. “You can turn on the light.”

He heard the click of the switch and squinted as the room filled with light.

“Oh, thank god,” Steve breathed. “Oh my god, Tony, I’m so sorry--“

“Sorry?” Tony murmured confusedly, squinting in the sudden brightness. Steve swooped down on Tony’s uninjured side, all but wringing his hands.

“Peggy made me leave and I--“

“It’s fine,” Tony said, waving him off weakly.

Steve caught Tony’s flapping hand and bent over him to press a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s not fine,” Steve said, reaching behind him with his free hand to tug the visitor’s chair closer to the bed. He sank into it without taking his eyes off Tony. “Are you…how are you feeling?

“Like I was thrown off a cliff.”

Steve blanched and Tony felt a twinge of guilt. “Sorry.” He coughed out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, I should definitely be the one saying sorry.”

“What, why?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to let anything happen to me.” Tony shrugged as best he could while lying in the bed. “Guess I’ve never really been good at keeping my word.”

Steve was shaking his head fiercely. “Tony it doesn’t…I mean, the doctors said…” He stopped and took a deep breath, then kissed Tony’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” he finished quietly, murmuring the words into Tony’s palm.

Tony felt something in him unfurl, _just_ a little bit and one side of his tipped up ever so slightly to match. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

***

Clint was lounging against the wall in the corridor outside Tony’s room, deep in thought when Coulson came up, a cup of to-go coffee in each hand. He held one out and Clint accepted it absently.

“Alright there, Barton?”

“Hmm?” Clint rolled his head to focus on the other man, who was looking at him with eyebrows raised. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Coulson nodded and took a deep sip of his coffee. Clint stared down at his own cup. He pushed off the wall and turned to face Coulson head-on.

“Listen, Coulson--”

“Phil.”

Clint faltered, losing his words. “…huh?”

“My name is Phil. Not ‘Agent’, not ‘Cutie’. Just Phil.”

“Oh. Uh…”

“You were going to say something.”

“I…” Clint scratched his head. “What?”

“Just now. You said ‘listen, Coulson’ and then I cut you off, which I apologize for. So please.” Coulson waved him on with his coffee cup. “Continue.”

Clint blinked. “Right, uh, well, _Phil_ , I wanted to talk about the whole, you know, shooting people thing. I just…” Clint exhaled deeply. “With Stane, I mean, what he was doing to Tony, it was a crazy situation and I…in different circumstances, I don’t if I could…” Clint gestured vaguely.

“I see,” Coulson said as Clint trailed off. He looked at Clint thoughtfully. “Do you regret it?”

Clint bit his lip, remembering the feeling of being up there, of watching helplessly as Tony fought for his life, of that stab of relief as he realized that there _was,_ in fact, something he could do. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t.”

“Would you do it again?”

“In a heartbeat. But it’s different. I mean, that was….” Clint dropped his gaze to the cup in his hand, picking at the cardboard sleeve. “It was _Tony_ ,” he murmured. _Tony_ who had almost died. _Again_. 

Coulson tilted his head, watching Clint, considering. “It’s not an easy thing to do,” he said earnestly, “but I have a feeling that when the time comes, you’ll once again do what needs to be done. It’s a good sign that you’re freaking out about it. Means you’re not a psychopath.” He downed the rest of his coffee and stepped around Clint, clapping his shoulder along the way. “Despite what your psych eval said,” he added as he started to move off down the hallway.

Clint spun around as Coulson walked away. “Hold on, what?” he called after him. “Hey, wait! Coul- _Phil_! Dammit, Phil, come back here!”

***

There was something about hospitals that put Steve in a philosophical mood. Maybe it was the endless hours of sitting and watching your loved ones’ chests rise and fall while they slept because you’re afraid they’ll stop and never start again.

Or maybe it was all the jello.

Tony had fallen back to sleep pretty soon after Steve had come in but Steve couldn’t bring himself to leave. He hadn’t moved from his spot, resisting the urge to climb into bed with Tony like the last time he was in here far too short a time ago. Instead he’d just sat in the visitor’s chair, clutching Tony’s hand and staring - staring at the movement of his chest, the rapid motion of his eyes beneath their lids, the flutter of breath over the hair under Tony’s nose. All the signs that Tony was here, was present, was _alive_.

The door opened and Steve’s head shot up. He blinked fuzzily as Rhodes entered, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Hey,” Rhodes whispered. “How’s he doing?”

“Still sleeping,” Steve answered, keeping his voice at the same volume. Rhodes walked to the other side of the bed and peered down at Tony’s prone form. Steve watched the two as silence reigned over the room once again.

Tony wasn’t one to trust easily and _definitely_ wasn’t one to respect easily, yet here was someone who seemed to have won both from him. Deservedly so, if the last few days were any indication. And while there _was_ a small part of him that envied their relationship, of Rhodey’s seeming ability to see through to parts of Tony Steve had only scratched the surface of, in times like these he was so incredibly glad that Tony had someone like Rhodes looking out for him.

As if sensing his gaze, Rhodes suddenly looked up at Steve.

“And what about you?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Steve responded, confusion evident.

Rhodes nodded at him. “How are _you_ doing?”

“I’m alright,” Steve said after a moment. He dropped Tony’s hand and scrubbed at his face, trying to rub the burning feeling out of his eyes. “I’m good.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

Steve shrugged, staring at Tony’s face.

“Steve--“

“Is this what it’s always gonna be like?” Steve suddenly burst out. He looked up at Rhodes. “The constant worry, the hospital stays… is this just normal for Tony? Like a biannual field trip or something? I mean, I knew he had a security team. It’s only rational, considering how much he’s worth. And I think I understood, somewhere, what that meant. But I guess I didn’t really understand what that _meant._ You know?”

Steve dropped his gaze back to Tony’s bruised face. He raised one hand slowly, gently running the back of his hand over Tony’s cheek. “Even after the crash, even after the warning Coulson gave us…I guess I was just in some sort of total denial.” He dropped his voice to a murmur. “When the whole coming out thing turned out the way it did, well, it felt like for once, things were working out for us.” He pulled his hand back and looked back up at Rhodes. “And I guess it made me believe everything was going to be okay.”

“Everything _is_ okay,” Rhdoes said forcefully. “Or at least, it’s going to be. Tony made it.” He smiled slightly, a fondness in his eyes as he looked down at his best friend. “And you can bet he’ll keep on making it because he’s the most stubborn ass that I’ve ever met,” he said with a laugh.

“I know it’s hard,” Rhodes continued, catching Steve’s eye, “ _god_ is it hard. But if there’s one thing you have to remember, it’s that Tony’s always going to make it to the end. He’ll fight and he’ll crawl; he’ll do _whatever_ it takes to get there. And he won’t make it any easier. He’s so used to dealing with the struggle alone, most times he’ll forget to take you with him. But no matter what, he always makes it. And it’s up to you to decide if the end is worth it.”

Steve stared off into space, letting Rhodes’s words fill up his brain and settle over the mess that had been building up in there. He heaved a deep sigh.

He had a lot to think about.

***

Bucky spotted the familiar red hair from far down the hall and his lips twitched, just a little.

“Steve in there?” he asked as he approached, hands tucked into his pocket.

Natasha nodded. “You couldn’t drag him away with a tow truck after he missed Tony waking up.”

Bucky pulled his good hand out to open the door but froze when Natasha clapped a hand around his wrist. “Coulson’s debriefing Stark.”

Bucky nodded and Natasha loosened her grip, letting him drop his arm back to his side.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked.

“Steve called me a little while ago, before he knew Stark was going to be okay. I wanted to be here during the procedure but I couldn’t get back to the city right away.”

“You were the one who called Peggy.”

He nodded again, going boneless and letting his weight thunk him against the wall beside the door. “Didn’t want him to be alone.”

Natasha stared at him shrewdly. It felt like she was always staring at people shrewdly, like she had some sort of x-ray vision that let her see straight into their innermost thoughts. She seemed especially fond of using this superpower on Bucky every time they met.

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

Bucky scratched awkwardly at his stubble, breaking away from her piercing stare and fixing his gaze somewhere over her shoulder instead. “So, seen any good movies lately?” She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. “I really liked Gravity.” She didn’t respond so he kept talking. “I mean, the story was kinda eh and even _I_ know a lot of that science was completely crap but damn, was it beautiful. Makes me wish I’d done Air Force ‘stead of Army, maybe I’d be an astronaut by now instead of a one-armed college dropout.” He snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide as he realized what he’d just said.

“Air Force are a bunch of dickheads,” Natasha said after a moment.

He blinked in surprise, then snorted. “Better not let Rhodes here you say that,” he said, his voice tight with laughter. “He’s already unhappy with the rep Peggy’s given him.”

“Ah yes, Sergeant Suckass, isn’t it? She really is the epitome of wit.”

Bucky sobered abruptly. “You’re not going to say anything are you? They’ve got their own stuff to deal with, ‘specially Steve. They don’t need my shit on top of that too.”

Natasha nodded. “It’s not my business to tell them.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “But I do think you should.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said on an exhale. “Once everything dies down,”

He didn’t need to look at her to know that she’d seen straight through that too.

***

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, Rhodey, stop coddling me.”

Rhodey just shot him an unimpressed look, arms folded across his chest.

“He’s right, Tony, there’s no rush,” Steve said from his seat on Tony’s other side. Tony had no idea how long he’d been out - he didn’t know what day it was, he didn’t know what time it was…what he _did_ know was that he wanted to get the hell out of here and move past this…incident…as fast as possible. And that meant there was certain shit that had to be done, no matter how unpleasant.

“The faster we do this, the faster I can be done with these guys and work on upgrading JARVIS so I don’t have to keep hiring real people.” He shot Coulson a pointed look. “You never know when they’re going to turn out to be secret government employees.”

Steve furrowed his brow but Coulson’s expression remained bland, much to Tony’s chagrin.

Coulson glanced up at Rhodey. “Rhodes--“ Coulson started.

“Uh-uh. I’m not leaving again,” Rhodey interjected, his hand still resting on Tony’s shoulder and suddenly feeling more like a necessary anchor than an unwanted weight pressing down on him and trapping him in place.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony said. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Coulson observed them silently for a moment, then nodded. “Alright Stark, so what do you remember?”

Tony took a deep breath. He felt a hand tighten around his own and looked over to see Steve watching him carefully and confidence surged through him.

He opened his mouth and began.

\--

It only took Tony about ten minutes to get through the whole story at the rate he was speeding through it but Coulson didn’t seem to have any issues keeping up.

“Okay, I think that’s all we need,” Coulson said finally. He flipped his folder shut and stood, leaving Tony staring up at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Rhodey noticed Natasha slip in.

“So what’s your angle gonna be?” Tony said.

Coulson glanced back at him. “Pardon me?”

“I’m betting you’re not going to want to tell the country that its biggest weapons contractor was dealing under the table so bringing Obi--Stane into it is out. How’re you gonna explain this mess?” He gestured at his battered body with his free hand.

“We plan to use one of the death threats you received when you made your announcement.”

Tony’s brow furrowed even as Steve inhaled sharply, his hand clenching harder around Tony’s. “Which announce--?”

“Tony got _death threats_ over that?” Steve broke in. “I thought everyone was okay with it. It seemed like, after his interview--“

“Wait, this is about my sexuality?”

“Are you really that naïve, Stark?” Natasha said wryly. “Did you really think you could announce you were bisexual and not have people come after you with torches and pitchforks?”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Listen, I--”

“I don’t think--” Steve started at the same time.

“What you have to understand--” Coulson threw in.

Rhodey frowned. This was the last thing Tony needed right now. “Guys…” he tried.

The others kept talking, voices getting progressively louder as each fought to be heard over the others. “Guys!” Rhodey said again, raising his voice as much as he thought prudent bearing in mind their current location.

Thankfully the others fell silent. Rhodey turned to Coulson. “You got what you needed - I think you should leave. Tony needs his rest.”

Coulson glanced at Natasha - Rhodey didn’t really understand _why_ , since her face seemed completely blank - then nodded. The two exited swiftly, despite Tony’s mumbling protests about having enough rest to last him a lifetime.

“James is right,” Steve told Tony. “You really need to take it easy.”

Rhodey could see Tony bite back what would surely be a snarky comment on Steve’s mothering and he was ever so thankful for it. The last thing Steve needed right now was some customary Tony bullishness to pile on top of the distress he’d been in for the last few days.

Instead, Tony shifted his attention to Rhodey.

“So, _James_ ,” he said, “you seemed to have particularly strong feelings about Coulson. Something happen while I was out? He blow up one of your planes or something?”

Rhodey’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Tony retorted. “At the very least, you two seem to know each other past the brief acquaintance you would have made hanging out in the waiting room.”

“It’s not important right now.”

“Not impor--“

“Tony, we’ll get to it. There’s a lot that we need to talk about but right now’s not the time, alright?”

Tony glared up at him but saw Rhodey had not intention of relenting and sighed. “Fine.”

“Good.” Rhodey glanced at his watch and swore. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back at some point tomorrow.”

“And by back you mean you’ll be by my place right? Because there’s no fucking way I’m still going to be in this hellhole tomorrow.”

“Tony, you are _not_ leaving here today,“ Steve objected.

Rhodey rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, leaving them to what was sure to be a repetitive and endless argument.

He pulled the room door shut behind him and paused in the quiet hallway. Because of his fame, Tony’d been isolated in a fairly private wing of the hospital and there wasn’t a soul in sight down the dull white corridor. It gave the already-miserable locale an even eerier feel.

Rhodey tipped his head back against the cheap wood and inhaled deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut as the breath filled his lungs to the brim.

And then he just held it - held the air in place, trapped in his lungs as his chest grew tighter and his head began to spin, held it and held it until finally it burst out of him in a rush and he slumped back against the door.

And only then did he feel like he could breathe again.


	13. Chapter 13

If there was one thing Tony hated, it was bed rest (okay fine, there were a lot of things he hated. But this was definitely up there), especially when he wasn’t even allowed to tinker. He didn’t understand _why_ \- it wasn’t like he needed his ribs to hold a screwdriver.

He was relatively certain (or at least pretending to be) that wandering around in search for food was allowed. The having Steve wait on him hand-and-foot thing was pretty fun at first but really, enough was enough. It’d been two whole days. He was _fine_.

“…a way, Obie did us a favor by leaking those photos.”

Tony paused in the hall as Pepper’s voice floated through the open door. He shuffled closer to the doorframe, gingerly letting the wall take some of his weight (no, he wasn’t _tired_. This was just the best spot to hear).

“Well, that’s putting a hell of a spin on in, isn’t it?” That traitor. Steve said he’d be going back to work today. Standing in Tony’s living room and arguing with Pepper, while entertaining in its own way, was most definitely not in Steve’s job description.

“Regardless, it’s doing us well now.” And just what the hell was Natasha doing here? “People seem to have bought the ‘crazy bigot’ story. Stark will still have a company to come back to once he’s all patched up.”

“I’m not sure he’s going to want to.”

Tony bristled. He’d had more than enough of people plotting his life without him. “You know, you could just ask him.”

“Tony!” Steve’s head snapped up as Tony stepped into the room. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Pepper snorted. “Don’t even bother, Steve.”

“It’s hard to rest with my ears burning,” Tony retorted, shooting Steve an accusing glare. Steve, Tony was mollified to see, looked a little sheepish.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. Natasha was just giving me an update so I could manage press.”

“Right.” Tony turned to Natasha. “So, gimme it.” He stuck his uninjured hand out, palm up.

Natasha just raised an eyebrow.

“The file,” Tony expanded. “I know you had to report back to SHIELD on me. I want to read about what a self-involved idiot I am, my ego’s been getting a little oversized lately.”

“Tony, you should really get back to bed,” Steve interjected. “You just had _major_ surgery.”

“Yeah, thanks, I was there,” Tony said, not taking his eyes off Natasha.

Natasha’s lips curled up ever so slightly. “Self-involved was definitely right.”

Tony just wiggled his fingers, hand still outstretched.

“You know I don’t actually have the file on me, right? You’re going to have to ask Coulson for it.”

Tony dropped his arm back to his side. “Whatever, I’ll just get it myself.”

“Tony,” Pepper said, dragging the two syllables out.

He swung towards her, ignoring the complaints from his body. “What?”

“You’re being an ass,” she said, tilting her head ever so slightly at Steve standing beside her.

Tony turned his attention to Steve, who looked distinctly unhappy, his hands in his pocket, his eyes locked on Tony like they’d been since he’d walked in the room.

Steve, who’d been here this entire time, who’d come into his life through a train ride and a website and had stayed there through the most incredible of shit, through invasive friends and daddy issues, through pathetic attempts at deflection and crippling self-doubt, through murderous father figures and life-threatening injuries.

And the longer Steve stayed, the more Tony wanted to leave. Because it was too much, it was too hard to be accountable, to feel like there was someone else to live for beside himself.

(To let someone else have a hold on his heart).

He wanted and wanted to push and fight and _run_. So he did the only thing that made sense.

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward. Steve cocked his head, a curious frown taking over his features as Tony moved closer.

“Hi,” Steve drawled, mild bemusement in his voice.

Tony paused right in front of him and tilted his head up ( _god_ , Steve was tall). He took a deep breath.

“Move in with me.”

“What?”

“ _What?_ ”

(What?)

Tony swallowed down his mounting terror at Steve’s incredulous expression (and that wasn’t even taking into account Pepper gaping at him for over Steve’s shoulder). Half of him was for this idea and that was the half he was going to listen to today.

“I mean, it makes sense. We sleep together every night anyway and now I won’t have to go all the way down to the East Village. Plus think of how happy Bruce will be! No more creaky bed. Besides, this way you can keep a closer eye on my injuries. Not to mention how convenient it’ll be the _next_ time my business partner kidnaps me! You think you trust Pepper now but you never know what she might…”

Nope, nope, backtrack. Steve definitely did _not_ find that funny.

“It just seems like the next logical step,” Tony tried instead. “Because, you know, I love you. And you love me.” He circled a finger in the air. “So we should just, you know…” He shrugged. “Live together. You know?”

Miraculously, Steve’s face was turning from aghast to contemplative.

“Oh my god, I don’t even…Tony, what is happening...” Tony didn’t understand why Pepper kept answering when it was _Steve_ he was talking to. “Why are you--“

“Shh!” Tony threw in Pepper’s direction.

Pepper sighed exasperatedly but kept her mouth shut.

Steve was still just… _looking_ at him. Tony swallowed again, each gulp feeling so much harder than the last.

“Okay.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Okay?”

Steve nodded. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “O…okay. Yeah, let’s do it.”

He was pretty sure one wasn’t supposed to sound this perplexed when one asked one’s boyfriend to move in with one and one’s boyfriend said yes.

“But I’d like to find Bruce a roommate first,” Steve added. “I don’t want to just leave him in the lurch.”

Natasha cleared her throat and Tony jumped. He’d forgotten she was even there (and man, did that happen way too often). All three of them turned towards her.

She tossed her head a little, flipping her hair out of her face. “I think I can help with that.”

***

It had been a week since Tony had checked out of the hospital and somehow Rhodey’d only been able to visit him once. Sometimes Rhodey hated his job.

He wandered into the living room and found his best friend stretched out on his back on the couch, his battered hand draped across his battered chest. The room was dim, the light from the setting sun filtering in through the picture window and tinting everything a deep orange.

Rhodey shoved his hands in his pockets and walked further into the room, circling the couch to come face-to-face with Tony’s prone figure. Tony didn’t seem to notice. Rhodey frowned down at his face and followed the path of his gaze, which ended on a bottle of scotch sitting on the coffee table.

“Tony,” Rhodey intoned. “You know better than most what happens when you mix alcohol with narcotics.”

Tony’s eyes snapped away, and he readjusted his head so he was facing the ceiling. “Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about my drinking for awhile.” He snorted. “You should tell Clint.”

Rhodey’s brow furrowed. He rounded the table and collapsed into his favored armchair. “What are you talking about?”

“Clint Barton? Scruffy blond hair, terrible at video games, used to deliver pizza but now apparently works for the government? Shit. Clint works for the government.”

Rhodey opened his mouth. Then shut it again. He licked his lips.

“What’s that got to do you with you drinking?” he said instead, resolutely _not_ getting dragged off-track by Tony’s ramblings. “Or lack thereof?”

“Nothing.” Tony tugged at the bandages under his shirt and Rhodey reached over and batted his hand away, forcing a huff from Tony.

“Tony?”

“Mmph,” Tony grunted.

 _Are you okay?_ he wanted to ask. _What’s going on? Why won’t you let me help you?_ And, pettiest of all, _Are you mad at me?_

“Where’s Steve?” he said instead.

“Packing,” Tony answered, not moving his head.

“So he’s really moving in?”

“Mm.”

Rhodey slouched back in his chair, the silence stretching between them. Rhodey began ticking seconds off in his head, tracking each moment that seemed to widen the gap between them.

Eventually Tony levered himself up, maneuvering into a seated position while taking a surprising amount of care not to aggravate his injuries. Rhodey fought down the urge to help him, knowing just how well Tony’s pride would take to that.

He flicked his gaze Rhodey’s way. “I don’t blame you, you know.”

“What?”

Tony arched one eyebrow. “Like you said, you were following orders. And your orders said not to tell me. I get it. You asked me to trust that you were looking out for me and I did. I do.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Rhodey said, the words quiet, imploring almost. “You shouldn’t have trusted me, you should have gone behind my back and done your usual hacking thing and looked up exactly what I was getting involved with and then you would have known, would have probably found way more than _I_ knew and you would have…you would have known.”

Tony didn’t make a sound. Rhodey rubbed his hands roughly over his jeans and just kept going.

“And maybe I could have helped you instead of _blindly_ following orders and getting cut off at every turn and maybe you wouldn’t be lying here with broken ribs and a punctured lung and a--”

“Don’t.”

Rhodey’s mouth snapped shut at the terse word.

“Don’t do that. There’s a…there are people I shouldn’t have trusted, through all of this. You…you’re not one of them. So don’t tell me I shouldn’t have trusted you. I told you not to make me regret it and I don’t.”

Tony rubbed his eyes. “I need to…I have a lot of regrets. Don’t tell me I need one more.”

God, he looked tired. Not the kind of tired that came from your body fighting its way back from the brink, Rhodey had seen plenty of that kind of tired and this wasn’t it. No, this was the weariness of the heartsick, the mien of someone who’d been thrown to the bottom and didn’t know how to climb back up and it made Rhodey ache down to the bone to see Tony feeling like that yet again.

Tony tipped his head back. “I mean,” he started halfheartedly, “you can try but it’s going to be pretty hard for you to claim fault for Obie’s secret plan to kill every Stark he came across so he could sell weapons to evil terrorists for profit.”

“Tony…”

“I’m gonna go video call Bruce,” Tony said, cutting him off. “See if I can convince him to prop his phone up so I can enjoy the view of Steve’s ass while they pack.”

He pushed stiffly to his feet.

“Tony,” Rhodey said as Tony was leaving, the word bouncing off Tony’s back. “Just don’t…don’t shut him out of this. I mean, if you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s fine. But don’t shut Steve out.”

Tony paused, his expression completely hidden from Rhodey as he stood stock-still in the doorway. Then, without saying a word, he walked out of the room.

Rhodey collapsed back against the cushions with a sigh.

***

The only sounds to be heard were the shuffling of things as they were loaded into boxes and the occasional squawking of tape being stretched across the top. Every so often, in between trying to cram a book into a carton already full of books or carefully wrapping up an old record, Steve would sneak a quick glance at his best friend.

“Stop that.” Bucky threw the words over his shoulder, punctuating the short sentence with the rip of tape between his teeth. “Stop staring at me.”

Apparently his glances weren’t as sneaky as he’d thought.

“I’m not staring,” Steve protested.

Bucky spun on his heel slowly, showing Steve just how high up his forehead his eyebrows had climbed.

“Sorry,” Steve sighed. He collapsed onto the bed, letting the dress shoes in his hand fall to the floor with a thunk. Suddenly he felt so tired. “I’m just worried about you.”

Bucky came over and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’re worried about _me_?” He bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own. “You’re the one moving in with a crazy person, I should be worried about _you_.”

Steve humphed. “Tony is _not_ crazy. Well, not completely at least…”

“Uh-huh. You sound so convinced.”

“Well, some of his recent behavior _has_ been a little…suspect.”

Bucky squeezed his lips knowingly. “Didn’t expect him to ask you, did you?”

Steve shook his head. “I figured when we were ready to take that next step, I’d be the one who’d have to do it.”

“So why are you doing it?”

Steve fell back against the brand new Tony-provided mattress, now stripped of sheets, and threw an arm over his eyes. “How did this conversation become about me? Why does that always seem to happen lately? God, my relationship with Tony has made me the worst kind of friend.”

“C’mon Steve, stop avoiding the question. If you don’t think either of you are ready, why are you moving in with him?”

Steve sighed again, a deep exhale that came all the way down from his bones. “Because,” he said. “I’m worried about him too.”

There was no response. Steve pulled his arm off his face and craned his neck up to see if Bucky had finally realized how nutso Steve was and bailed once and for all.

Instead he found Bucky chewing on his lip and staring at him with the eyes of someone whose brain was racing at a thousand miles a minute. Bucky opened his mouth but paused on an inhale, holding the words in his throat for a moment. Then he shut it again and let his features go lax. Without saying a word, he patted Steve on the knee and stood, turning away from the bed.

Steve levered up onto his elbows. “What about you?” he said as Bucky returned to throwing shirts into a box.

“What about me?

Steve snorted. “And you said _I_ was avoiding the question.” He sat up. “Were you _ever_ going to tell me you’d dropped out?”

“I did tell you,” Bucky answered, not looking up from the box. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“Oh, cut the shit,” Steve retorted. “The only reason we’re here is Natasha. And a little bit of fortuitous timing.”

“Sorry, you’re gonna have to use smaller words on a dumb dropout like me.”

“Bucky…”

“What do you want me to say, Steve?” Bucky exploded, whirling around with a toss of his hands. “You want me to admit that I was never gonna call you and tell you about what a pathetic failure I am?” He let his arms fall back to his side. “Because I know what you’re thinking and you’re right,” he continued, not yelling now but still spitting the words out, razor-sharp. “If I could have, I’d have hidden it from you forever. But that was never really an option so I figured…I don’t know…I figured I’d tell you when I was drunk. Or fuck, you want the real truth? I’d probably have waited until I’d scrounged enough money to get far enough away that the feeling of having completely let you down wouldn’t drown me. Then I would have called you.”

Steve gaped at his friend, horrified. “Buck…”

Bucky stared back at him, arms crossed over his heaving chest, defiance etched into every line of his face. But he seemed to know that Steve had no clue what to say because he suddenly just dropped his arms, all the fight going out of him in one breath. “Forget it,” he said. “Let’s just finish packing your shit before you change your mind about this whole thing.”

Steve sat still, watching Bucky transfer stacks of clothes from his chest of drawers to the boxes by his feet, his crowded mind idly noticing that Bucky finally seemed to be using the unwieldy prosthetic like it was a part of him.

“There's nothing,” Steve said quietly after a moment, eyes burning into Bucky’s back, “ _nothing_ you could do that would make me think you were a failure.” There was a tightness to the line of Bucky’s shoulders as he continued the slow repetitive swing between the boxes and the dresser. “I mean, not even taking into account the fact that I _don’t_ think college is the best choice for everyone, just…who you are…everything you’ve already done with your life…you just…you haven’t let me down, Bucky. And if I’ve ever given you the impression that I wouldn’t be a hundred percent supportive of you doing what’s best for _you…_ well, I’m sorry.” Bucky was frozen now, a shirt clenched tight in one hand, his body still angled away from Steve. “I’m _so_ , so sorry.” Steve dropped his head, murmuring his next words to his feet. “I don’t want you to ever think I’m anything but incredibly proud of everything you are.”

“…thanks.” Steve raised his head at the soft word to see Bucky’s frame shaking ever so slightly. Before Steve could say anything further, Bucky seemed to unfreeze and a second later he was back to working diligently at his task.

Steve followed suit, getting to his feet and pretending not to hear Bucky’s shuddering breaths over the rustle of fabric.

“So…Natasha,” Steve said as he gathered up an armful of shoes. “Why do you always seem to go for the scary ones?”

Bucky just responded with a shaky laugh.

***

“That the last one?”

“Yup,” Steve replied, jumping down out of the back of the truck.

“You know, the point of hiring movers is so that you _don’t_ have to climb up into trucks and throw boxes around.”

Steve shrugged, clapping dust off his hands. “It’s my stuff. I should help. I let him be the one to carry it up, didn’t I?”

Tony shook his head. “Sometimes I really don’t know what to do with you.” He grinned. “At least this time we didn’t have to deal with Bruce’s couch.”

“You know,” Bruce said, “I’m starting to get the feeling that you wanted to do this now so you could use your injuries as an excuse not to help.”

“Hey, if you remember I managed to avoid helping just fine last time.”

“Oh don’t worry, I remember,” Bruce replied dryly. “Okay, if you guys are all set, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Want a ride? Happy’ll be happy to take you back.”

“Nah,” Bruce said. “Subway’ll be faster at this time.”

“Ugh, New York subways.”

Steve clapped Bruce on the back. “Thanks for the help,” he said, ignoring Tony’s muttering complaints about the city’s terrible underground system. “We still on for dinner tomorrow right?”

“Sure, just text me the address.”

“Will do. See ya.”

“Bye Brucie!” Tony yelled as Bruce started to walk away. Bruce threw his hand up and wiggled his fingers without turning around.

“So,” Tony said, turning back to Steve once Bruce had rounded the corner.

“So,” Steve replied.

Tony stuck his uninjured arm out. “Shall we?”

Steve smiled. Whatever his reservations, whatever had prompted this, Tony sure as hell looked nothing but completely enthusiastic right now. And despite all his doubts, despite the long road of healing Tony clearly had ahead of him, right now Steve was feeling more than enthusiastic too. Because if the last few months had taught Steve anything, it was that no matter how much this world seemed determined to drown them, they’d make it through. They’d keep each other’s heads above water.

Steve hooked his arm through Tony’s, a sudden burst of euphoria bubbling up in his chest and escaping unbidden through his lips in a joyous laugh. “Let’s.”

And together they walked into the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this story! I'll be going back through and making some small revisions, cleaning things up a little. Thanks so much for reading/commenting/kudosing and I especially appreciate those of you who stuck with me through the slow updates! There _will_ be another installment in this series, I just couldn't tell you when.


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